


Follow You Home

by hypocorism



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Found Family, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Unconventional Families, Unconventional Relationship, Werewolves, Witches, background Nastya/Varv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-10 19:46:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 68,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypocorism/pseuds/hypocorism
Summary: sometimes a family is five disaster bisexuals, their daughter, and their therapy dog dmitry orlov





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy. Finally starting to post this Monster. The current plan is to post a chapter a week, for about nine chapters total. Tags are for the whole fic, not just this chapter.
> 
> A note on Alexes: Alex Semin is introduced first, and is either Alexander or Sasha. Alex Ovechkin is only ever Alex.
> 
> CW: The background of this fic involves two characters dealing with past instances of childhood abandonment (one, also, with emotional neglect), and the trauma resulting from that/what the healing process is like.

KUZY

Kuzy slams the grimoire shut in irritation. It’s satisfying for approximately half a second, and then the shower of dust produced by the ancient pages goes up his nose and he starts coughing and wheezing.

“You dying?” Dima asks, poking his head around the corner. Kuzy, trying to get to the window to open it and also swipe at his streaming eyes, spares a moment to flip him off. Dima laughs at him and fucks off, presumably back to his own research station. Kuzy wrenches open the window, ignoring the way his internalized Great-Aunt Irina is shrieking at him about exposing old books to light and air. None of the books here are really that old, anyway, mostly shitty nineteenth century copies that have gotten dusty and moth-eaten in people’s attics and storage units over the past couple hundred years.

Kuzy realizes he’s mentally arguing with a woman who is thousands of kilometers away and half a decade underground and sighs. He props an elbow up on the windowsill, looking out into the courtyard. It’s not a bad building, per se. A little boxy from the outside and way too big for four people, but not bad. There’s even a little garden outside, full of weedy wildflowers, some rocks, and a particularly stubborn tree.

His phone buzzes, and Kuzy fumbles on the table behind him without turning around.

_Still on for lunch?_ Kuzy frowns down at the text from Nicke, thinking. Nicke won’t push, he never does, but Kuzy hates that he still has nothing to tell him. He’s been using every trick he can think of (divining and research both) to try and find something for the pack, some kind of indication that Nicke is meant to be here. Not just Nicke as proximal to Kuzy, but Nicke on his own merit.

_yeah i can come meet you_ , he texts back. _where?_

_I’ll come to you._

Kuzy sighs, sending back a confirmation text and then tossing his phone down on the table again. He doesn’t particularly want to have lunch here, not with Alexander lurking around corners and definitely not without Masha as a buffer. The whole idea of lunch, though, is to distract Nicke, so Kuzy will put up with the parameters Nicke sets.

He’s tempted to try and squeeze in a little more research before Nicke gets here, but he also doesn’t want to get distracted and lose track of time, so instead he stares down at the garden.

‘Garden.’

_It’s lucky none of us are nature witches_ , Kuzy thinks darkly, although it is neither luck nor is it strictly true. It isn’t luck, because the four of them were selected and sent here. At some point, someone decided what exactly they would need and what they could do without. Kuzy imagines a list on a great scroll of paper. Need: castoff copies of every magic book in the tristate area, vast quantities of legal pads and pens (mostly black, some red, one cursed), a ritual room scrubbed to within an inch of its life, many half-melted candles, and bare supplies for a rookery. Do without: reliable air conditioning, proper garden, pest control (rats, or perhaps mice, rodents are not Kuzy’s specialty), or a kitchen bigger than a postage stamp.

As for the nature witch bit, well. Kuzy has never meshed well with other witches. He doesn’t understand them, mostly. (It’s really that they don’t understand him, or want to, but Kuzy is polite and gives people the benefit of the doubt.) He knows this, though: nature witches don’t end up in purgatory. They don’t get stuck trying to thump life into the embers of a library and tied to a teetering burgeoning unstable pack. Alexander is the closest thing they have to a botanist, but his huge cabinets and bins of dried and curling things would make a true nature witch shudder.

Someone taps lightly on his office door, and Kuzy goes to open it. “You got here fast,” he says to Nicke. Nicke shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“Maybe I’m hungry.”

“They don’t feed you at barracks?” Kuzy teases, turning off the light. Nicke makes a grumpy face at him. The pack has no idea where to put Nicke. This week he’s training for a guard position with the Defenders at the barracks, and he absolutely loathes it. “Or the mean betas push you out of the way?”

“They tried,” Nicke says drily, “I push back.”

Kuzy laughs, poking at the tiny curl at the side of Nicke’s mouth. “How was Masha this morning? Still excited about the nursery?”

“Yeah.” Nicke’s face tries to simultaneously look fond and worried, and it’s so familiar that Kuzy has to bite down on another laugh. “I hope she’s not getting too attached.”

This sobers Kuzy. Nicke doesn’t mean it as a reproof, but it serves as a reminder nonetheless. He tries to think of a way to be comforting that will not make Nicke snap closed. He thinks, wistfully, of the huge archive back home, the immaculately kept documents. It’s a far cry from squinting down at his own scribbles and holding a cracked book open with his elbow.

He is quiet for too long, and Nicke smiles at him, lets him off the hook. “What do you want to eat?”

Kuzy shrugs. “Think there’s a cafe somewhere near here.”

“Okay,” Nicke says agreeably.

They find the place in silence, Kuzy mentally hopping around sealed boxes and open abysses to try and find any semblance of a safe conversational topic.

“You don’t like Defenders?” he starts, finally. They haven’t even been here for a month and this is Nicke’s third posting.

“It’s not all bad,” Nicke says. “Good exercise, running drills.”

“How are the other bitten wolves?”

“Bad habit,” Nicke says mildly. “We aren’t supposed to use the b word so openly anymore.”

Kuzy makes a face. “I know why you really move here with me, Nicke. Finally have a chance to lecture me on etiquette.”

“My one desire,” Nicke says, holding the door to the cafe open for Kuzy. Kuzy hurries to find a table so Nicke doesn’t pull his chair out for him, too.

“The other reserves, then,” Kuzy resumes the conversation once they’ve ordered.

“Oh, they’re fine,” Nicke says. “Four of them, and each one younger than the last.” He makes a face. Bitten wolves take longer to settle into packs than born ones, partly because no one really trusts them, but most have claimed some sort of position by twenty two or three. Nicke is almost thirty one.

“Do they run drills with the others?” Kuzy asks curiously. He knows a little about how the Defenders of the Capitals pack work, in that it’s pretty much how most Defenders of any pack work. They are in set groups of threes: who live, work, train, patrol, and guard together. The reserves are there in case someone dies, or disperses unexpectedly, or deserts. It’s not a comfortable position, Kuzy imagines, to be kept in the margins as a reminder that fate is unpredictable. Bigger, more stable packs don’t have reserves, because they have enough sets of Defenders that they can reassign or split up broken trios.

“Oh yes,” Nicke says. “In the back and on the edges, but there.”

Kuzy hums thoughtfully. “Better than gate duty?”

“Anything’s better than gate duty,” Nicke says fervently. That was his first week here, sitting and recording entrances and exits from pack land. It was boring, and a sort of backhanded complement. A position of some responsibility, some honor, but supervised by the two ordinary guards at all times.

No one knows quite what to do with Nicke.

“Maybe they’ll put you in nursery next,” Kuzy half-teases. Nicke rolls his eyes.

“I’m surprised they even let Mari in the nursery,” he grumbles. “No one likes having two more bitten wolves running around, not when they’re trying to pass themselves off as responsible enough to get proper Watchers.”

“B word,” Kuzy sing-songs. Nicke shakes his head, smiling a little. “Anyway, Masha is an angel. They are lucky she graces their silly nursery.”

Nicke looks a little forlorn at this. He is used to having his daughter with him all the time. It’s good for her, being around other little wolves, getting the pack childhood that Nicke never had. Kuzy imagines that is part of why Nicke came here, too. His status has gone up, and that means his daughter is more acceptable, fits into pack more easily. Still, it’s been the three of them against the world almost since Nicke adopted Masha four years ago. It’s hard to see that change, even for the better.

“So,” Nicke says, looking so innocent that Kuzy is braced for revenge, “how are the other witches?”

“Dima and I are having lunch tomorrow,” Kuzy says. He takes a large bite out of his sandwich as an evasive maneuver.

“Lunch date?”

The evasive maneuver is not a success. Kuzy tries to glare at Nicke and chew aggressively at the same time. From Nicke’s little giggle, he is failing at one or both of these things.

“Are you my mother now?” Kuzy asks finally. “Zhenya,” he continues, in a stern imitation of his mother, “this is big responsibility. Are you sure it’s smart, starting a family with three witches you don’t know?”

“Best way to get to know someone is to marry them,” Nicke smirks. “Have little witch babies.”

“I already have a witch baby,” Kuzy says tartly.

“Wolf blood makes for a bad witch,” Nicke says. And somehow, they’ve turned the conversation back around to serious, again. That is Kuzy’s only excuse for what he says next.

“I think Alexander might be a necromancer.”

Nicke stares at him for almost ten seconds, and then tilts his head back and bursts out laughing. “Are you serious?” he says, finally, though he’s still half-laughing.

“I don’t trust him,” Kuzy says. “What does a witch need, with so many dead plants?”

“Maybe he’s a poisoner,” Nicke leans forward a little, lit up with glee. “A twist, the Kuznetsov family not the source of the hidden serpent after all.”

“Don’t give yourself airs,” Kuzy says, stealing a fry from Nicke’s plate. “You’re a corn snake, if anything.”

Nicke rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “A necromancer. What a combination! A diviner, a warder, a wolf witch, all too practical. Let’s throw in a necromancer for good measure.”

“Practical if you need to raise the dead,” Kuzy points out. “I’m just saying, there’s something strange about him.”

Nicke hums at this, unimpressed. “I think the only strange thing is that he fascinates you.”

Kuzy has a comeback to this, something about death fascinating all of us, but he gets a little flustered at the directness of Nicke’s assertion and the words get tangled up between his brain and lips.

“Why do I set a lunch date with Dima, then?” Kuzy says finally, retreating into his sandwich.

“Smart. Hedge your bets,” Nicke says. “You ask Nastya out, too, maybe date all of them?”

“You,” Kuzy says firmly and with great dignity, “are worse than my grandmother.”

—-

NICKE

Nicke is a little early to pick Mari up from nursery, but there are several other anxious parents already waiting. He gets a couple slightly suspicious looks and a tight smile from Oliver’s mother, Mia, which is a fairly warm reception all things considered. He’s honestly surprised that even one of the other parents likes him enough to be polite. They’ve only been in this pack for less than a month.

Mari grins and waves to him, a tiny oasis of calm in the yelling mass of baby wolves just released. Nicke crouches down to hug her, feeling a relative sense of peace settle over him now that she’s back in his sight.

“Good day?” She nods, still looking around, and Nicke tries not to grimace. Mari is extremely self-possessed for her age, and her continued stubborn refusal to accept that Kuzy can’t be as involved in her life now that they’ve moved is both persistent and implacable. “It’s Thursday, sweetheart,” Nicke says gently. Mari’s eyes flick to his, going briefly deep gold and wolf.

“You smell like Geni,” she says. Nicke sighs internally, getting back to his feet.

“We had lunch,” he admits, feeling a bit like his daughter is a prosecuting attorney.

“I thought we could only see him on weekends. It’s Thursday.”

Nicke’s brain swims with the vastness of the information he doesn’t know how to explain to her. That comings and goings are tracked all the time, but especially at night. That Kuzy coming onto pack land is tricky, and could go badly. That Nicke’s failure to blend into the Capitals pack is being noticed more and more every day. That keeping in their little coven of three is a bad idea for all of them. Kuzy needs to create bonds with the other witches, to start to create a family for himself. Mari needs some normalcy, some consistency, she needs to get used to being in a pack.

Nicke needs to stop thinking about this before he shakes apart inside.

“We’re having dinner tomorrow,” he says. “You’ll see him then.”

She doesn’t argue with him, but her little jaw goes tight and she wraps her arms around herself instead of reaching up to hold his hand. Nicke tries to remember why he thought any of this was a good idea. Maybe they should have just stayed back in Oregon.

“How is Oliver?” he asks. Mari looks up at him, blinking, deciding if she wants to still be mad.

“He’s good,” she says finally, posture loosening a little. “I’m teaching him how to do wolf ears.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Mari smiles up at him, letting her ears shift briefly from human to wolf, and then back to human. She’s got excellent control over her shifts for her age. What started as a matter of self-preservation is now a party trick, and isn’t that just Nicke’s life in a nutshell.

“Is he as fast as you?” Nicke asks, gently bopping her nose. She laughs and grabs his hand.

“None of them are as fast as me, Papa.”

His heart twists and clenches, even as he keeps smiling down at her, asking about school and the other pups and her teacher. It still hits him sometimes, the unbelievable cruelty of how young she was bitten. Not even two years old, and left wailing and abandoned a mile off pack land. He can’t ever undo that, just has to go forward with the grim satisfaction that those who did it were found and dealt with. All he can do now is do everything in his power to give her the best life he can.

Right now, they’re living in new parents housing. It’s theoretically good, a way for wolves with young children to support each other, a means of pack bonding, lots of spaces for the pups to play when they aren’t at school or nursery. All of that is predicated on anyone actually talking to them, though.

They’re on a very loud hall full of newborn babies, so they stick out even more than they would already. Nicke is dreading his weekly meeting with the pack coordinator tomorrow, already picturing her disappointed frown when he fails to produce the names of friends he’s making or young couples he’s having dinner with.

“Go pick your book for the night while I start dinner, okay?” Nicke says.

“Okay,” Mari holds onto him for balance while she slips off her shoes and socks, and then pads barefoot over to the bookcase in the corner of their tiny living room. She’s in a bit of an odd position as far as werewolf schooling goes, since Nicke has been raising her mostly embedded in a Watcher family with Kuzy rather than in a pack.

It’s just another in the endless parenting decisions Nicke has had to make that he constantly questions, and doubts. It seemed smarter to focus on self-control, and regulation. The wildness of child pack life is a luxury bitten wolves don’t have. Her full shifts will start in a couple years, and Nicke fully intends her to be ready to run with the pack. He absolutely refuses to let her be confined and sedated on full moons, like most bitten wolves under sixteen or seventeen are. Like Nicke was.

So yes, Mari has spent a lot of time learning self-discipline. She can shift individual features, does not even lose control of her nails and teeth when upset anymore. She reads well, and is quiet, and understands most of her schoolwork with minimal assistance, because she was raised to be those things. She is stubborn, and self-willed, and does not trust easily, because she is Nicke’s child. And he loves, deeply and completely, all of those things about her, but he hates the necessity of it.

He wishes she could have a careless childhood, could have the luxury of making mistakes frequently and easily. Her awareness of her own constant danger, and social position, is as faint as Nicke could manage to make it. That is not so faint, when her safety and happiness is what lies in the balance.

“Can I color?” Mari asks, as Nicke washes some greens for a salad.

“Do you have homework?”

“I finished it during midday run.”

Nicke smiles down into the lettuce. “You didn’t run?”

Mari leans against his leg, sighing heavily. “First no Geni and now no coloring.”

“Worst papa in the world?” Nicke asks, resting a hand on her hair lightly. She looks up at him, considering.

“Maybe not, if you let me have a cookie.”

Nicke laughs. “You can have a cookie, and color, since you finished your homework. I do want to know if you ran, though.”

“A little,” Mari says, getting the box of cookies from the low cabinet and her art supplies bag from the living room. “It’s boring after a while. The games are stupid.”

“Why’s that?”

“They just are. The rules don’t make sense.”

Nicke interprets this as ‘I don’t understand the rules, and I don’t like it.’ He hums, pretending to pause for thought. “Maybe Oliver can help you learn the rules, like you help him with his ears.”

“Maybe,” Mari says. Nicke takes the hint and drops it. She’s made one friend already, and it’s only been a month. She’s doing better than him, anyway.

“Did you learn anything interesting today?” he asks instead.

“Nah. Story time was good, though. The book today was about a boy and his dog who talked to each other, but the dog was just a regular dog and not a werewolf so it was a made up story.”

“You don’t think humans can talk to dogs?” Nicke teases, and Mari giggles.

“No, papa! You’re silly.” Nicke is about to reply when someone knocks on the door. “Geni!” Mari yells, running to answer it. Nicke sighs. He seriously doubts it’s Kuzy, he would have texted or called first, and Mari shouldn’t get in the habit of answering the door to strangers.

“Wait for me, please,” he calls. To her credit, Mari does, although she’s practically vibrating with impatience by the door.

Nicke opens it to see one of the Defenders. Tom, he thinks he’s called. He fights the urge to step in front of Mari, who looks confused and disappointed.

“Can I help you?” Nicke asks, trying to sound polite and not frosty.

“Uh,” Tom glances between Nicke and Mari, then smiles and bends down so he’s at her level. “Hi. Sorry to interrupt. I just need to talk to your dad for a minute.”

“About what?” Mari asks curiously. Tom looks startled.

“Um.”

“Hon, go color for a bit, okay?” Mari looks up at him, an overly serious expression on her small face. She looks concerned, protective. Nicke smiles at her reassuringly. “I’ll just be a minute.” Nicke turns to watch her go back into the kitchen, pulling the door slightly shut behind him. “What is it?” His tone has edged past polite, a little.

“Sorry, I didn’t-” Tom starts, Nicke waves off the explanation.

“Do you have a message for me?”

“Oh. Yes. You’re needed at the infirmary.”

Nicke stares at him blankly. “The infirmary?”

“Yeah. It’s close to the nursery, just-”

“I know where it is,” Nicke says, still calm but clipped. “Why?”

“I don’t know, sorry.”

_Of course you don’t,_ Nicke thinks bitterly. Whatever this is, it isn’t good. He drums his fingers on the doorframe, trying to think. He’d rather not take Mari to the infirmary if he can help it, her werewolf immunity hasn’t even started developing yet and being around sick kids isn’t a good idea. He doesn’t know anyone here he trusts to watch her, though, and….he doesn’t know what this is about. If they need to run again...

“Give me five minutes,” Nicke says, closing the door. It’s rude, but he’s past caring at this point.

_I’m being summoned to the infirmary, don’t know why. Taking Mari_ , Nicke texts Kuzy. He’ll freak out, but Nicke doesn’t have time to call him and doesn’t know what might happen next.

Nicke turns off the stove and packs up Mari’s coloring stuff, getting her back into her shoes.

“Are we leaving again?” she asks quietly.

“I hope not, sweetheart,” Nicke says. She holds onto his hand tightly, and doesn’t ask about Kuzy.

Nicke shoulders Mari’s bag, and resolutely does not let this remind him of the past. This is different. It’s nothing like the circumstances that led to Nicke running with only the clothes on his back and a traumatized two-year-old. It’s not like the slowly brewing frustration and hostility back in Oregon, either. Not yet. It’s also not like the many, many times this has happened to Nicke in the past, before Mari, and before Kuzy.

_This will be fine_ , Nicke tells himself, and panics.

—-

CHRISTIAN

Christian watches the body in the bed, the chest rising and falling. It’s surreal, seeing an adult in the infirmary. When the patrols found whoever this was, they thought he was dead. He still might be, for all he’s breathing. It takes a lot of effort, to hurt an adult werewolf. Usually, if you’ve done all that, you don’t stop with hurting.

The crooked twist of the stranger’s spine has slowly straightened over the past hour, deep gouges on his chest and arms fading to angry scratches, then unmarked skin. He looks almost as if he is sleeping, now.

The left arm twitches, face twisting in pain. Christian is on his feet, leaning over the stranger. He’s not sure what to expect, he has very little experience in dealing with curses, but he is a healer and will do whatever he can to help his patients. What Christian sees, though, has nothing to do with curses, or poison, or witchcraft at all. Ink: a dark, almost-black green, is spreading across the man’s left forearm. Christian watches, mesmerized, for a second, then rushes over to yank open the door.

He almost runs straight into Tom, who startles back a little.

“What happened?” Tom asks. “Did he wake up?”

Christian glances between Tom and the bed, thinking quickly. “No, I’m just supposed to come to the meeting with you.”

“Oh.” Tom seems to accept this, but Nicke is watching Christian with narrowed eyes, suspicion practically rolling off him. Nicke’s daughter is also staring at Christian, and if there were anything funny about this situation it would be the way their faces exactly mirror each other. This is a mess, though, whichever way you slice it, and Christian is not laughing.

“Let’s go, then,” Nicke says coolly, striding past Christian and down the hall.

Christian feels a brief qualm at leaving his patient unattended, but they’ll pass the on-duty healer’s station on the way to the offices and he can hopefully send Jakub off without raising too much suspicion.

The head healer’s office is not large, especially not with Nicke, Tom, Christian, and the pack coordinator crammed in. The other two Defenders who found the stranger are sort of trying to blend into the wall, and Tom goes to join them.

“Ah,” the head healer says, looking at Nicke’s daughter. “I didn’t expect that you’d bring a guest.”

“I didn’t expect to be fetched from my home after sunset,” Nicke says pleasantly. “We all adjust, don’t we?”

The pack coordinator shifts uncomfortably at this. “Why don’t we have Mari go sit with the on-duty healer,” she says brightly.

“What is this about?” Nicke says, folding his arms. The pack coordinator purses her lips.

“I did suggest this might be better addressed tomorrow,” she mutters to the head healer.

“And have the council calling me in about it?” he snaps, before looking around the room and visibly collecting himself. “Look, Nicklas, Christian can watch…Mari, is it?” He waits for someone to confirm this, but no one says anything. “Christian,” he snaps after a moment.

Nicke purses his lips, looking at Christian, then Mari. “Go show Christian your drawings for a bit, okay? I’ll come find you soon.”

Mari glances around the adults, then at her father. He smiles at her and nods, reassuring. Her eyes flick over to Christian.

“We have a big table where you can color,” Christian offers. Mari blinks at him and then gives a slow, dignified nod. He follows her out of the room, feeling a little ashamed of how relieved he is. This conversation is not going to be pleasant.

—-

NICKE

The pack coordinator offers Nicke a seat, and he thanks her and takes it. He doesn’t particularly want to do either of these things, but it’s clear that she is here as his advocate, nominally anyway. It rankles, being treated like he needs a guardian this late into adulthood, but that has always been the case in every pack Nicke has been in. This coordinator might be a little clueless about dealing with bitten wolves, but at least she seems to genuinely want him to integrate into the pack.

“Is there anyone,” the head healer says, “from your…former life…who might wish to pursue you?”

Nicke blinks, a little startled by the question, although he can’t say he was expecting anything else. Of course this is about his past. Reputation is everything, for bitten wolves. “Why?” he asks, eyes flicking behind the head healer to the line of three Defenders against the back wall.

“It’s a simple question,” the head healer snaps.

The pack coordinator sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I think we owe him some explanation, at least.”

“I can’t disclose information without the consent of the council.”

“Then summon the council,” she says, a little impatiently. The head healer glares at her. “Look, I’ll vouch for Nicke’s trustworthiness.”

The head healer’s lip curls. He clearly has his own opinions about the moral fiber of bitten wolves. It is practically an ingrained response, for Nicke, to feel the sour roil of rage in his chest and keep his face blandly pleasant, his scent non-confrontational. “I’m happy to go back to my quarters,” Nicke says.

There’s a moment of silence, then an impatient sigh from the pack coordinator. “This is ridiculous. Patrol report, whichever of you found him.”

One of the Defenders, Andre, Nicke thinks, steps forward. Their loyalty, at least, is simple. They do not report to the pack coordinator, but she has much more to do with them than the healers. “We’ve been out on our standard run this week, patrolling a mile past our boarders in all directions. We found,” Andre pauses, looking a little nauseated, and Nicke’s blood runs cold.

“A child?” he asks quickly. “Did you-”

“No, no, nothing like that,” the pack coordinator breaks in. “We’re much more well-regulated than that, here.” She seems to realize how insensitive this is a second after it comes out of her mouth, because she ducks her head and looks embarrassed. Nicke doesn’t particularly care. He’s heard much worse things about his own origins, and if he never has to see another abandoned infant, or bitten child, he will die happy.

“We found an injured wolf,” Andre says.

Everyone pauses after this, and Nicke frowns. “Okay, so? Were they trespassing?” That doesn’t answer why this has anything to do with him, or why everyone looks so serious.

“No, it was still a bit outside of our territory,” Andre says.

“And?” Nicke says, impatiently.

“He still hasn’t woken up,” the head healer says. Nicke stares at him.

“But he’s alive?” He gets a nod. “Poisoned, then?”

“We don’t know,” the head healer says, frowning.

“Okay, well,” Nicke folds his arms. This is starting to make sense, vaguely, and he’s tired. “I understand why you’d drag me here. Something suspicious happens, it must be the outsider.”

“That’s not what anyone is saying,” the pack coordinator says bracingly.

“I am saying it,” Nicke points out. “To answer your question, no, no one would follow me here. I’ll take a look on my way out to make sure I don’t recognize him.” Nicke pushes back his chair, standing. The head healer opens his mouth and Nicke snaps, just a little. “She’s right,” he says, jerking his head at the pack coordinator, “you should have just summoned the council.”

Mari runs toward him as soon as she sees him, and Nicke scoops her up. She’s getting a little too big to hold, but it’s not like her weight poses a serious challenge to his werewolf strength, and they both need the comfort of it right now. “Do we have to go?” she whispers against his collarbone.

“No,” Nicke says firmly. “We’re just going home, and we’ll see Geni tomorrow, after nursery. Okay?”

“Okay.” Mari relaxes a little, pressing her face into his neck and breathing in his scent.

“Let’s get your stuff, okay?” She nods, squeezing him tightly one more time, and Nicke sets her gently on her feet. “Thank you,” he says stiffly to the healer, who gives him a small smile. “I’m Nicke, I don’t know if we’ve met.” The introduction will be redundant, everyone in this pack knows exactly who Nicke is, whether they’ve met or not.

“Christian,” the healer says, holding out a hand. Nicke hesitates, then sniffs his wrist politely, extending his own for the same treatment. It’s a little on the formal end, for a greeting, but Nicke isn’t overly fond of touching strangers. It will have to do.

“I said I’d look in on your patient before I go,” Nicke says, “to make sure I don’t recognize him.”

“The room is just over here,” Christian says, indicating. There’s another healer in the room when they enter, but he gives them a curious glance and then leaves. Nicke looks down at the stranger, the source of all this fuss.

He doesn’t expect to recognize him, and he doesn’t. Nicke understands why suspicion has fallen on him, and it’s not because of logic. Born wolves, in his experience, are very slow to trust that bitten wolves aren’t up to something nefarious, or hiding something. There really isn’t that much difference between them. Bitten wolves are stronger, on average, and heal differently, and have less control over their shifts when they’re younger. More than anything, though, born wolves don’t like bitten wolves because they’re a reminder of the danger wolves pose to humans, and much of werewolf society is built around trying to make humans forget that danger.

In any case, Nicke has very little in his past to shock, and none of it unknown, so he is unsurprised that this stranger has nothing to do with him. He looks uninjured, healed from whatever poison or curse brought him here, and is sleeping peacefully. He’s huge and strong-looking, almost definitely a beta, although Nicke doesn’t see his attribution marker. There is something on his forearm, though. Nicke frowns.

“He’s got a mate mark,” he points out, looking at Christian. “They didn’t mention that.”

“He didn’t have one when he came in,” Christian says carefully, looking straight at Nicke. Nicke wishes it took him more than a second to understand the implication, but at this point he expects his life to always take the most complicated and unpleasant route available to it.

“You were in a hurry, when you came out into the hall,” Nicke says, tone lightly questioning. Christian nods. Nicke looks away, back at the stranger’s forearm.

Mate marks range from the fairly obvious to the obscure. The only consistent thing is that they represent the person’s soulmate, and they appear when the person and their soulmate are first in close proximity. They don’t always go two ways, in fact they frequently don’t, because the ability to form mate marks is rare and unpredictable. Nicke is not surprised that he hasn’t manifested one, but mostly because he had sort of assumed, up to this point, that he’d already met his soulmate.

It’s a handprint, and Nicke is a little disappointed that his own psyche is apparently so blatant. The fingers are curled loosely around the stranger’s left wrist, and when Nicke lays his own hand over it they match perfectly.

Now that he’s lifted the stranger’s arm, he can see the mate mark continues on the underside of his arm. Nestled a few inches from his wrist, right under Nicke’s thumbprint, is a tiny elegant ‘M’.

You get used to your world crashing down around your ears, and this is the third or fourth time it’s happened to Nicke. What’s another responsibility? At least this one is an adult.

“You didn’t say anything,” Nicke says, taking his hand away but still looking down at the mate mark.

“It’s not really their business,” Christian says.

“What isn’t?” Mari asks, and Nicke jolts back to himself.

This is all going to come out. Christian has bought them a little time, which was kind, but it’s Nicke’s fucking handprint. And, shit, he fishes his phone out of his pocket.

There are about twenty missed calls from Kuzy, and increasingly frantic texts he doesn’t bother to read. He calls him instead.

“Finally,” Kuzy snaps. “Where are you? I’m almost at the infirmary, I had to wait for an escort at the gate.”

It’s horrifically inconvenient, and will probably make things more difficult, and Nicke wants to cry he’s so grateful for it. “I’m still here.”

“Are you okay?” Kuzy still sounds angry, but Nicke knows it’s not at him.

“Will it sound too ominous if I say, ‘For now?’”

Kuzy swears at him, in several languages. Nicke bites back a smile. “We’ll meet you downstairs.” He looks over at Christian. “Evgeny is coming.”

A look of panic crosses Christian’s face: a familiar wolf reaction to Watchers in general and Kuzy in particular.

“Don’t worry,” Nicke says. “He’s not the one who bites.”

—-

Kuzy has brought Nastya with him, which was probably the smartest move. She’s the wolf witch in their little half-attached half-Watcher family, which means she knows the most about wolf etiquette, can talk to them the most easily, and is least likely to inadvertently offend someone and start a war.

They have a full Defender group as an escort, and one of the gate guards, and Nicke expects there will be council members popping up any second. It’s just Nicke and Mari, again, they left Christian back with the stranger. He did a kind thing; there’s no need to involve him in this whole mess. No one will care who discovered the mate mark, anyway, just that it clearly indicates Nicke.

Nastya is having a low conversation with the on duty healer, and she smiles and waves at Nicke when he comes into the room, going back to her talk. Mari is a little too intimidated by all the strange adults to run yelling at Kuzy like she usually does, but she’s wrapped around him in less than a second all the same.

“See,” Kuzy says, not really lowering his voice by all that much, “I bring you a circus, Masha. You like it?”

Mari laughs, hugging his neck. “Maybe smaller circus next time, Geni.”

“You got it.” He kisses her cheek, and then looks at Nicke.

It can’t be later than eight in the evening, but Nicke is so tired he feels like he’s been up all night. He doesn’t know the best way to do any of this. How can he explain everything to Nastya and Kuzy when he only has a vague idea of what’s going on himself? How is all of this going to affect his and Mari’s pack position? Will this cause issues for Kuzy? Who is this stranger claiming Nicke is his soulmate, and what is trying to kill him? How is Nicke supposed to deal with any of this well while being watched by half the Capitals pack and trying to keep it together for his daughter?

“We have probably five minutes before the council gets here,” Nastya says, pulling Nicke’s attention. Some portion of how he’s feeling must show on his face, because her hand twitches and she smiles and then suddenly the healer on duty is pointing them down the hall to a small empty conference room.

Nicke doesn’t have the heart to pull Mari away from Kuzy, so it’s just the three of them, and five minutes, and limited privacy.

“One of the patrols found someone injured, not pack,” Nicke says. Kuzy’s face darkens, and Nicke shakes his head. “No, an adult.”

“What’s this have to do with us?” Kuzy asks.

“Nothing yet,” Nicke says, glancing at Mari. She has her face pressed to Kuzy’s neck and is breathing in his scent. _Stay calm_ , Nicke tries to indicate with his eyebrows. This close, Mari will pick up on Kuzy’s emotions easily, and Nicke doesn’t want to startle or frighten her. Kuzy rolls his eyes and deliberately relaxes in the chair. “He hasn’t woken up yet, so they thought I might do a better job of explaining why he’s here.”

Kuzy snorts. “Council is getting an earful.”

“Well,” Nicke says. He looks down at the table, tracing a hand over his own wrist. “Maybe don’t write that speech just yet.”

“Okay,” Kuzy says, he raises an eyebrow. “You have secret past, Nicke?”

“Not quite,” Nicke says. “The stranger has a mate mark.”

There is nothing in the words to startle Mari. She honestly might not even know what a mate mark is. They come up sometimes, in children’s stories, but she’s never shown any particular interest in them.

“A clue?” Kuzy prompts, a little impatiently. “We gonna be detectives?”

“Not a difficult clue, anyway,” Nicke says. “It’s my handprint.”

Kuzy has worked almost as hard and nearly as long to control his emotions as Nicke. His breathing stays even, and he only stills for a few seconds.

“I think I was right,” Kuzy says. Nicke frowns a little, confused. “What I say when I meet you,” Kuzy clarifies.

“Who the-” Nicke’s eyes dart to Mari, censoring past-Kuzy, “-are you?”

“After that,” Kuzy smiles, leaning back in his chair a little more. “Some witch definitely put a blood curse on you, Nicke. No one has luck this bad.”

It’s perhaps a little cruel, all things considered, but true cruel things are their own comfort. Nicke laughs. “What does that say about you, for sticking around me all this time?”

“Oh,” Kuzy tucks Mari more securely against his chest. “Diviner, you know.” Kuzy smirks. “We’re all crazy.”

—-

NASTYA

Nastya has heard more distant relatives lecture her about her choices than she has fingers and toes to count them on. Wolf witches are precious, and finite, and they don’t generally move more than four miles away from the place they were born.

You have to be stubborn, and good at getting your way without seeming pushy, to even go those four miles, and Nastya has gone a lot farther. She knows when it is time to ask questions, and when it is time to stay silent. She knows that Nicklas is a magnet for trouble, and that it would be wiser and easier to have left him back in Oregon.

Then again, if Nastya wanted a wise, easy life, she’d have stayed in her mother’s house in upstate New York and married the very nice next door neighbor’s very nice son.

“Of course you want to speak to him,” Nastya soothes, giving the rumpled councilwoman a sympathetic look. “We all want to know what’s going on here.” And then, the gentlest push, a slight lean back in her chair, “It’s really too bad we couldn’t meet in the council chambers.” She glances around the room, as if just noticing how many people there are. “So much more spacious.”

The hint is taken as it was intended. The head healer broke protocol here, badly. Nicke might not be a Watcher, but it’s understood that he and his daughter are under Evgeny’s protection. That was part of the condition of his acceptance into the pack. He should never have been questioned in such an informal way, let alone with no actual evidence of his involvement.

And, well, the head healer is brusque, and his underlings don’t like him. Two minutes and a sympathetic ear got Nastya all the details she needed, and more than enough to cause all the trouble and delay she likes.

“We have a very nice council building,” the councilwoman says, rather nonsensically. Nastya lets it pass with a polite hum.

Evgeny appears in the doorway, hovering over Nicklas like a bird and clutching Mari in his arms. He could not signal ‘pack’ much more clearly if he were a wolf himself. Everyone in the room straightens up a little.

“Evgeny,” the councilwoman says, an extremely forced smile on her face. “So nice of you to join us.”

“Glad it’s nice for one of us,” Evgeny says. Nicklas lets himself be herded into a chair, accepts his daughter back into his arms. Evgeny doesn’t sit, and Nastya sighs mentally. He doesn’t make her job easy.

“It’s getting late,” Nastya says, voice pitched to gather wandering attention. Evgeny will offend fewer people if they aren’t looking at him. “The councilwoman was just telling me how lovely the new council building is. Perhaps we could come for a tour, tomorrow?” Nastya has been on three tours of the council building, which is entirely ordinary and has indifferent refreshments.

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” the councilwoman agrees hastily. “We’ll be happy to show you around.”

“Lovely,” Nastya says, smiling. “Evgeny, are you interested?”

Evgeny’s eyes flick around the room, thoughtful. “Sorry, have plans tomorrow,” he says after a moment. Nastya relaxes slightly. The councilwoman is frowning, but she’ll have to take what she can get, here. Nastya is their public face with the pack, and she’s extending the olive branch by agreeing to meet at all.

“Ten, then,” Nastya says briskly, pushing her chair back. “I look forward to it.” The councilwoman stands as well, and Evgeny cooperates decently for the semi-formal leave-taking. “Oh,” Nastya says by the door, as if the thought has just occurred to her. “We wouldn’t want to keep these ladies,” she gestures to the complement of Defenders, “from their duty any longer. Nicklas can escort us home.”

“It’s no trouble,” the councilwoman tries.

“Oh, I insist,” Nastya smiles broadly. “We’ve caused such a fuss already, and it’s getting so late.”

“You’re too kind,” the councilwoman says unhappily.

“Tomorrow, then. I look forward to it.”

Nastya does not look back. She is practiced at sensing wolves, and tracking those near her. Nicklas, with his double signature of wolf and coven, is practically a beacon. For all that, she has no idea what goes through his head, most of the time. A month is not long for confidences. Whatever this is, though, she intends to get to the bottom of it. They might be a new coven, this hodgepodge group of Watchers, but they are family, now. Pack. Blood.

_My fool of a niece, taking three husbands and running off into the middle of nowhere,_ she thinks she has a response next time she hears that.

_Four, actually, auntie, and we’ve got a child already._

Nastya has a sweet voice, but she can cut with it.

—-

NICKE

“So,” Nastya says, flicking on the lights in the living room of the big house. “Meeting tonight, or early tomorrow?” She looks at Nicke when she asks this, which is considerate of her.

“Should be tonight,” Nicke says, adjusting Mari’s sleepy weight. “Let me just get her settled.”

“Okay,” Nastya smiles at him and heads for the kitchen, and then it’s just Nicke and a frowning Kuzy.

“You sure?” Kuzy asks. Nicke is obscurely grateful for Mari in his arms, for the way she stops him from just collapsing forward.

“I’m not sure of anything,” Nicke says simply, and heads for the stairs.

The house ostensibly has two guest bedrooms. One, on the ground floor, is for formal visits. It’s neat as a pin, and devoid entirely of personality. The one on the top floor has Mari and Nicke’s clothes in the closet, and an enormous bed with a sheer princess canopy, and light up stars on the ceiling. The existence of this room is one of the many things Nicke studiously avoids thinking about.

Mari is already asleep, worn out with all the excitement and lulled by Kuzy’s scent mixing with theirs. She looks so tiny in the big bed, Nicke has to fight the urge to curl around her and just shut out the rest of the world.

Kuzy would probably let him, and Nastya is too traditional of a wolf witch to push her own coven, but Nicke is not in the habit of cutting himself slack.

He goes down to the kitchen.

Dmitry and Alexander are there, too, which is not entirely unexpected. The birds are nowhere to be found, but Alexander’s cat, Grisha, is curled up in his lap and blinking sleepily.

“Cocoa?” Dmitry asks, and Nicke accepts the mug thankfully. They’ve left him a seat, between Kuzy and Alexander, and Nicke sinks into it.

Across from him Nastya tilts her head thoughtfully and taps her fingers. “This is more complicated than we thought, yes?”

Kuzy doesn’t say anything. Nicke should be grateful, Kuzy has always given him his own way, but he just feels tired.

He drinks his cocoa and tells the whole story: from Tom in the hallway to the encounter with Christian to the unpleasant office to the mate mark. He half expects to be interrupted at this point, Dmitry looks startled and Nastya is frowning, but no one stops him. He winds up the story, including the parts Kuzy and Nastya were there for, and mentioned the arranged meeting of the next day.

Silence descends over the kitchen.

“Well,” Alexander says, after a heavy moment. “And my grandfather says, ‘you’ll be so bored, nothing happens so far from the city.’”

Kuzy laughs, and the tension ebbs, a little. Nicke has trouble trusting this idea of coven, of pack. He does not know how to feel, that this is a topic of conversation. That protecting him, and Mari, is something anyone but Kuzy and Nicke care about.

“You don’t know him, though, right?” Dmitry asks. Nicke shakes his head.

“That would be easier, maybe, but no.”

“Soulmates always trouble,” Alexander says. He leans forward to peer around Nicke at Kuzy. “You don’t see this coming?”

Nicke can feel Kuzy bristle, and Nastya makes a disapproving noise.

“No one complains about how you scrub out cauldrons in the kitchenette or tries to tell you, ‘no, needs more rabbit fur,’ Sasha. We don’t make potions, you don’t divine.”

“He is right, though,’ Kuzy says slowly.

Nicke frowns at him. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Blood curse’s fault,” Kuzy waves a hand dismissively. “Not what I mean. Soulmates, they press heavily on fate, and I’ve been looking closely at this pack. I should have seen this coming.”

“How long had he been unconscious?” Dmitry asks.

Nicke shrugs. “At least a few hours.”

“Long time. They don’t know if he was poisoned?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Not a lot can hurt a grown werewolf,” Alexander says. “Poison, and magic.”

And, well. Those are both trouble, aren’t they?

“I can come with you to meeting tomorrow,” Dmitry says to Nastya. “Nicke, you know the ones who found him?”

“Enough for an introduction.”

Dmitry nods. “Good. I’ll go look, see if there are traces of magic.”

“Yeah,” Nicke sighs, dropping his head into his hands. The slow return to equilibrium is just reminding him that all of this is temporary. The stranger will wake up, soon, and then the whole applecart will be upended again.

The stranger, which some twisted string of fate has tied him to.

“We should sleep,” Nastya says. “Lots to do tomorrow.”

Nicke nods, without looking up. Nastya must make some signal, because the kitchen clears around him. The smell and warmth of the others fades into the distance, until it is just Kuzy at his elbow.

Kuzy lines up their arms, pressing his right wrist to Nicke’s left.

“What am I going to tell Mari?” Nicke says, into the pooling quiet.

“Wait until he wakes up, maybe.”

“Yeah.” Nicke rubs at his forehead. An old mate mark superstition flashes into his head, and he laughs helplessly.

“What?” Kuzy asks, voice already smiling.

“Maybe he’s here to murder me,” Nicke says. “Sometimes that’s what the marks mean, right? Love or death.”

Kuzy snorts. “Takes more than a handprint to kill you, Kolya.” He wraps an arm around Nicke’s shoulder. “Anyway, fate has two hands, always. If one takes…” he trails off, squeezing Nicke.

“…the other gives,” Nicke completes the proverb obediently.

“Fate give you me, and I’m worth at least nine murderers,” Kuzy says smugly.

Nicke can’t argue with that, so he lets Kuzy bundle him up the stairs. They curl around Mari, a pair of parenthesis, and Nicke doesn’t let himself think about how this is confusing her, or how distance is better, or how much this bruise he’s pressing into his own heart will hurt in a few days. He looks up at the stars Kuzy stuck to the ceiling, and breathes in the smell of pack, and sleeps, deep and dreamless.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing is going faster than expected so I’m posting a lil more frequently than planned.
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr at selkienicke/riverannan and twitter at selchies, if you like. It’s mostly me fawning over sasha semin + fielding wild dmitry orlov cat conspiracy theories.

DIMA

Zhenya tends to wake people up by jumping on them with his extremely pointy elbows, so Dima sets an alarm for a little earlier than he needs to be awake.

When he gets down to the kitchen, Nicke and Sasha are making breakfast, with Mari swinging her legs on one of the high kitchen chairs.

“Morning,” Dima smiles at her. Mari is a little shy, but Dima has gone to get ice cream with her and Zhenya a couple times, so he isn’t a total stranger.

“Hello,” Mari says. “Is Geni awake yet?”

Nicke laughs, turning from the counter. “That counts as pestering, Ri.”

“You said no pestering Geni to wake up,” Mari points out, with great dignity. “Not no pestering Dmitry.”

Dima grins at her. “What if I pester him to wake up, is that allowed?”

Nicke shakes his head. “All right. Take Mari for defense at least.”

Mari cheers and wriggles out of her chair. “Come on,” she tells Dima, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the stairs.

He takes great delight in flinging Mari onto a sleeping Zhenya, and then watching him try to flail awake and not swear at the same time. Serves him right for the elbows.

“You’re up early,” Zhenya says, glaring at Dima.

“No, it’s late!” Mari is draped over Zhenya’s back with her arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Already nine.”

“You have an early definition of late, kid,” Zhenya says. Mari giggles. “Why aren’t you at school?” He gets out of bed, hoisting her onto his back.

“Papa says I’m going in late today, so we can have breakfast together.”

“Ah, so it was your idea to wake me up?”

“No, Dmitry,” she says.

Dima shakes his head, feigning shocked disapproval. “I thought we were a team, Mari! You throw me under the bus so fast?”

“Geni tickles,” Mari says solemnly. Zhenya laughs, managing to elbow Dima and keep Mari on his back at the same time.

“I’m taking half of your bacon as payment, Dima.”

“Not if I get there first,” Dima points out. He’s not above using the advantage of not carrying a child to win a foot race.

Nastya is up, already fully dressed and ready for the day, when they get back down to the kitchen, and Nicke is scooping scrambled eggs onto a line of plates.

“Wasn’t my idea,” Nicke says, as soon as he sees Zhenya.

“I’m sure,” Zhenya grumbles. He crouches down so Mari can scoot back into a chair and then pushes it into the table for her.

“Cute pajamas,” Sasha says, looking down at the fuzzy duck pants Zhenya is wearing. Zhenya starts to turn red, and Dima at least sort of attempts to hide his laughter behind his cup of coffee.

“Breakfast looks wonderful,” Nastya says diplomatically. She is a much nicer friend than Dima.

Nicke cuts up Mari’s pancakes for her, and the rest of them start eating in companionable silence. It’s nice. They don’t have breakfast together that often. It tends to be people trickling from the house to the library whenever they wake up, and then staying in their different research stations through the day. None of them really know how this coven should work.

You get used to a certain way of doing things, as a Watcher. You grow up in a family where everyone does the same thing, and you mostly just do what your grandparents or great aunt or whoever the head of the family is tells you to do. There’s a hierarchy, and rules, and everyone knows everyone else’s business. There’s some change, sure, with dispersals coming into or leaving the local pack, and with your cousins or siblings getting married and having kids and bringing in more Watchers, but it’s slow. Dima only really comes from a Watcher family tangentially, and he’s been an attached for a while, but this is still less formal than anything he’s experienced.

The Capitals pack is just starting to get big, with enough structure and size that they need a whole Watcher family, not just one or two attached to make sure no one’s breaking any rules. A family doesn’t come from nowhere, though. You have to start one, and grow one, and put down roots. The four of them, six of them, have all come here for different reasons. It’s a new kind of family, and they’re writing their own rules as they go, and it’s scary.

But, Dima thinks, it could also be really good.

“You smile too much for morning,” Zhenya complains, trying to snatch some bacon off Dima’s plate.

“You’re too young to be so bitter,” Dima says, and takes the last bite of Zhenya’s pancakes.

“Worse than wolves,” Nicke says, shaking his head as the two of them start wrestling a little.

Nastya hums in agreement. “Wolves appreciate a good home cooked meal.”

“This is how I show appreciation,” Zhenya says, getting an elbow into Dima’s side and managing to snag the last piece of bacon.

“Keep it next time,” Nicke says drily, pushing his chair back to start gathering plates.

“Evgeny and I can clean up,” Sasha says, “if the rest of you need to go.”

Zhenya chokes on his bacon.

—-

NICKE

The guards at the gate treat Nicke with more nervous politeness than he’s used to, but otherwise getting back onto pack land goes without a hitch. Nastya heads to the council building with a wave, and Nicke and Dima drop Mari off at nursery and then head for the barracks.

“They might be at drills,” Nicke warns. The Watchers can, essentially, take any werewolves from anywhere they want to anywhere they want, but Nicke knows they’re not trying to make waves or step on any toes. Not yet, anyway.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind waiting,” Dima says.

They are at drills, but as soon as the Defender head sees Nicke, she calls practice to a halt.

“What do you need?” she asks, gruffly but not unkindly.

“Could we borrow those three for a few hours?” Nicke asks, indicating the group of Defenders who found the stranger. Everyone is staring at them. Nicke wouldn’t exactly say he’s loved being with the Defenders, but knowing he’s going to be reassigned for the fourth time in a month isn’t exactly encouraging. Who knows what they’ll do with him when this whole mate mark mess comes out.

“Of course.” She gives Dima a formal nod, and then jerks her head at Tom, Andre, and Mike. “You three are dismissed for the day. Ensure the Watchers receive anything they need.”

They salute and peel off from the group, and Nicke debates whether he’s irritated or pleased by being lumped in with the Watchers, rather than the wolves.

“What can we help you with?” Mike asks politely, as they move past the barracks and toward the back gate.

“Dmitry is a warder,” Nicke explains. “He wants to see if there are any magical traces where you found the injured wolf.”

“Oh,” Tom says. They all three look a little nervous. Wolves have a healthy distrust of magic.

_They have to at least have suspected it was something like that_ , Nicke thinks. Then again, maybe not. They’re young, and have probably lived in one pack all their lives, and not seen all the ways wolves and witches and humans can tear into each other.

“Good luck,” Nicke says, leaving them at the gate. The wolves look even more nervous, now left with someone they need to impress and no buffer of debatable familiarity, but Dima is nice and he’ll set them at ease soon enough. Anyway, Nicke has more important things to worry about than the comfort of acquaintances. He starts toward the infirmary with not much of a plan in mind, just the vague idea that he should probably be nearby when the stranger wakes up. He’s sure there is a line of people ready to demand answers when that happens, but Nicke has his own questions and his own interests to look out for.

The on-duty healer isn’t someone Nicke recognizes, but she nods and lets Nicke pass the desk without questioning him. The infirmary is quiet, and Nicke easily avoids the few places he hears chatter from as he makes his way to the stranger’s room.

He half expects the mate mark to be gone, rendered invisible by a good night’s sleep and the morning sun streaming through the window. It still seems a little absurd, this new bout of bad luck. The mark is still there, though, still the shape of Nicke’s hand, still crisply edged and fresh on the stranger’s skin.

If Nicke had been told to try and envision his soulmate, this is not who he would have pictured. Not this practical copy of an ideal beta, huge and strong and difficult to kill. He would have pictured someone small, maybe, with bright, thoughtful eyes. Then again, appearances can be deceiving, and wolves are more than their birth, or attribution.

Nicke doesn’t put much stock in attribution marks, anyway, since bitten wolves don’t have them. That’s why no one treats him as an alpha, for all the effort he puts in to being a good one. (Careful, always, to use his brain rather than his body, to be independent, to make sure everyone is fed, to always have an exit strategy, to be good with children, with negotiation. Aware, always, of all the ways he falls short: too impatient, too cutting, graceless with accepting gifts, favors, kindness.)

So, who knows, really. Maybe the stranger is polite and quiet, an excellent diplomat, less sharp-tongued than Nicke. One thing he is certain of, though, and it would kill any romantic curiosity if life had spared Nicke a shred of that softer emotion. Whoever this is, he is trouble. The mate mark is an obstacle, not an opportunity.

Nicke settles in to wait. He just needs to sort this out, quickly, and get back to trying to make a space for himself and Mari here. He can do that. He will do that. Whether the stranger is kind or cruel, quiet or loud, polite or awkward, that does not change Nicke’s determination.

—-

ALEX

He dreams.

He is lying in a field, the sun bright overhead and the sky a clear and cloudless blue. It’s peaceful, warm and quiet and empty. There is nothing, just the field, the grass tickling his palms and the back of his neck, just the sun on his skin and in his eyes, just the unending expanse of the sky pressing him down into the earth.

Pressing him down, so bright it hurts his eyes, and the scene tips from peace into panic in an instant. He can’t move, can’t seem to even breathe, the heavy crushing weight of the sun that blots out the stars and the moon can pulverize him so easily. It gets brighter and brighter, a burning white so searing it starts to feel cold. The bleached grip of it is so strong he can’t shiver, even as the cold sinks into his bones. His heart has turned to stone in his chest, frozen solid.

He can’t see the sky anymore, or the field. He can’t feel anything but endless aching coldness. He can’t hear anything but the whispering rasp of a voice in his ear, talking as quiet as snowflakes falling. He strains to hear what it’s saying, to try to discern any of the words. The voice refuses to grow any louder or clearer, even as he pours all his focus into listening, consciousness trying desperately to flinch away from the unending crush of cold.

The voice shouts, then, sudden and indistinct. It rasps from human speech into a crow call, echoing harshly around him, and then silence. Something hisses, low and ominous, and he jerks awake.

—-

NICKE

The stranger wakes up and makes an immediate and valiant attempt to roll out of the bed. It’s lucky Nicke has quick reflexes. He manages to stop him crashing to the floor, but then he’s trying to pin down an increasingly panicked wolf.

“Stop,” Nicke says loudly, trying to stop the stranger from swiping at him with claws without hurting him. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

This seems to sink in, at least, and the stranger calms down enough that Nicke can let him go and sit back down. They’ve alerted the healer on duty with all the noise, and she comes into the room and kicks Nicke out into the hall so she can look over her patient.

_Good meet-cute_ , the Kuzy in Nicke’s head snarks. Nicke sighs, tilting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. At least he’ll get some answers, now.

“You can come in,” the healer says, leaning out into the hall. The stranger watches Nicke, who hesitantly resumes his chair. The healer is also watching him, and there are altogether far too many eyes on him for his comfort. “Your wolf witch is meeting with the council today, right?”

“Yes,” Nicke says, not debating the pronoun.

“Okay. I’m going to go get Christian.”

With this, she leaves them alone. Nicke doesn’t blame her. He’d definitely pass on the responsibility for this mess, if he had that option.

“What’s your name?” he asks. The stranger blinks at him.

“Name?” his voice is raspy, and he still seems a little disoriented, but he must be mostly okay since the healer didn’t seem concerned.

“Yeah.” Nicke tries to look patient, and sympathetic, and like someone who has any experience with sickbeds.

“I don’t know.”

Nicke frowns. “What?”

“I don’t remember anything. Just waking up here, and seeing you, and then Jess asking me questions.”

Nicke almost laughs. _Of course he doesn’t remember anything._

“Okay,” he says. “What did she ask you?”

“If I know where I am, who my pack is, what my name is.”

“And you don’t know any of that?”

“No.” The stranger sits up farther in bed, crossing his legs. He looks antsy, like he’d rather be running, but then so do most wolves inside. “What’s your name?”

“Nicke.”

“Nicke,” he repeats slowly. It’s closer to sounding right than most people manage. Nicke looks down at the stranger’s wrist almost reflexively, and the stranger follows his eyes. “Tattoo?” he asks.

“Something like that,” Nicke says. The door opens quietly, and Christian comes in.

“I get to meet lots of new people, I guess,” the stranger says. Nicke laughs.

“Exciting. Maybe I should forget everything.” Christian is awkwardly smiling at both of them, so Nicke takes pity on him. Sort of. “Are we waiting for anyone else?”

“No,” Christian says. “I can send a messenger for someone, if you like.” He looks ready to run and deliver a message himself.

Nicke tries to think. In some ways, this makes things simpler. They’ll make inquiries with local packs and figure out who this is eventually, but for now no one can do anything.

“Does he need to stay here?” Nicke asks.

Christian shrugs. “Other than the memory loss, we can’t tell if anything’s wrong. His blood work doesn’t show any major poisons or toxins.”

“So this is probably magical,” Nicke says. Christian hesitates, and Nicke waves a hand. “You can’t confirm that, I know.” He looks at the stranger. He should leave him here, probably. Wait for the council to decide what to do with him, wait for his memories to come back, wait for Nastya to make a decision about what the smartest move is.

Nicke is tired of waiting for other people to arbitrate his life. This person, who doesn’t remember anything and is left essentially to the whims of the council in a pack that doesn’t care about him, is Nicke’s responsibility. This, his helplessness, changes things. “What do you want to do?” Nicke asks the stranger.

“Eat lunch,” the stranger says. “I’m hungry.”

“Okay.” Nicke looks at Christian. “Are you going to stop us from leaving?”

Christian hesitates. “Are you taking him back to the Watchers?”

“I think so. Do you want to be stared at in the mess hall here?” Nicke asks the stranger, drily.

“Not really.”

“Watcher house it is, then.”

“Just,” Christian sighs, “don’t leave town, I guess.”

“Deal,” Nicke says. He gestures to the stranger. “Come on. There’s a guest bedroom with your name on it.”

—-

Nicke had anticipated the house being empty, but Alexander hears his key in the lock and comes to open the door.

“Evgeny said you’d be back,” he says, eyeing the stranger. “This is the soulmate?”

“Soulmate?”

Nicke sighs. “It’s a long story.”

Alexander looks rather like he’s going to keep them in the doorway until Nicke relates the entire thing, but Kuzy pokes his head around his shoulder.

“I kind of thought the fates were wrong with this one,” he says, sounding delighted. “Nicke! You steal him?”

“Can we get into the house some time today?” Nicke snipes. Kuzy holds up his hands in surrender, and Nicke shoulders past him into the kitchen.

Everyone follows him.

“What is this about a soulmate?” the stranger is asking Alexander, and Nicke cuts that off immediately.

“He doesn’t remember anything, so be nice.”

“I’m always nice,” Kuzy protests. Nicke snorts and starts slicing bread for sandwiches.

“Nothing?” Alexander asks.

“Just remember Nicke,” the stranger says. Alexander and Kuzy both look at him.

“I was just there when he woke up,” Nicke says.

“Romantic,” Kuzy says. Nicke contemplates throwing the knife at him.

“We need to figure out something to call you,” he says instead.

“Looks like a Sasha to me,” Alexander says.

“You can’t just name him after yourself,” Kuzy protests. “Maybe he’s an Evgeny.”

“Sanya, then,” Alexander says. Kuzy looks unimpressed. “Shura?”

“We’re not having two Alexes,” Nicke says.

“I like Alex,” the stranger says.

“You’re three hours old. You like everything,” Nicke points out.

“Alex,” Alexander says firmly, ruffling the stranger’s hair. He looks at Kuzy. “You can call me Sasha, now.”

Kuzy sputters something, and Nicke gives up on the argument. If he protests now, they’ll probably end up with two Zhenyas or a Mitya.

“Alex,” the stranger, Alex, says, smiling. “Now what is this about soulmates?”

“No,” Nicke says, pointing the knife at Sasha. “I’m fielding this one.” Sasha leans back in his chair and smirks, amused. “Do you know what mate marks are?”

Alex frowns, thinking. “Just a story, right? Like for kids?”

This is interesting. The marks must not run in his family, generally. It’s not terribly surprising, marks pop up unexpectedly all the time, but it does indicate that he’s probably from a big pack. More established packs don’t have marks as often as splinter packs. Maybe all of this will be resolved more quickly than expected.

“Not just a story,” Nicke says.

“Okay,” Alex shrugs. Nicke supposes changes to your worldview are not so difficult when you can’t remember most of your worldview to start with.

“No one is sure why they appear,” Nicke says carefully, “but sometimes wolves manifest a mark when they meet someone for the first time. It means your fate is linked, somehow.”

“You sound like a diviner,” Sasha says, smirking at Kuzy. It irritates Nicke, makes him sharper.

“Your fate is linked to me,” he says. “That’s what the tattoo on your wrist means.” He turns away, pulling lunchmeat and lettuce and cheese out of the fridge.

There is almost a minute of silence, and Nicke finishes assembling the sandwiches.

“So,” Sasha pipes up. “When’s the wedding?”

—-

NASTYA

Lena perches on Nastya’s shoulder and runs her beak through her hair.

“Yes, I did have a very trying day, thank you,” Nastya croons in Russian. Lena’s English is mostly limited to rude words she’s picked up from Evgeny’s crow, Koschei. “How are the others?”

She pushes the image of the rookery toward Lena, the room in the library where she, Ivan, and Koschei have a sort of roost. Lena is still a little clingy with Nastya, unsure about this new flock. The raven rasps discontentedly.

“The boys aren’t behaving themselves?” Nastya asks. Lena is apparently done communicating, she just fluffs up her feathers and settles herself more firmly on Nastya's shoulder. Nastya hums a little song for her, running gentle fingers through her feathers. “We’ll do some casting tomorrow. I need to get a better feel for the pack, here. Do you want to come inside?” Lena nips at Nastya’s ear gently and then flutters off.

It’s good, probably. She’s exploring the area, getting a little more comfortable, but Nastya is disappointed anyway. She hasn’t connected with the others as quickly as she’d like. It’s lonely, after being used to a house full of cousins and aunts, always someone pestering you to help wind up a spell or pitch in with the dishes.

Nicke comes out onto the porch, shutting the front door behind him. He’s eyeing her warily, probably expecting to be scolded for absconding with the stranger a few hours ago.

“Let’s go for a walk, yes?” Nastya says. Nicke nods, pushing his hands into his pockets and jogging down the steps toward her.

They’re not far from the road, but the house has a big enough yard that they can comfortably take a few turns around it without being overheard by any wolf ears.

“I’m sorry if I caused you difficulty,” Nicke says formally.

Nastya sighs. “You have to stop thinking of us as different, Nicke.”

“What do you mean?” His voice is still stiff.

“You don’t know me very well, so I will tell you this: I am not a person who decides things lightly. I did not leave my family behind to move here on a whim.”

“I don’t think that,” Nicke says, stung.

“Just listen,” Nastya says, patiently. He nods. “Evgeny is my family now, and you are his family. I do not expect that to change. You are thinking of us as Watchers, as separate from you, but we are also your pack.” She looks at him, his carefully blank expression and the tension in his shoulders. “You think that is a light thing for a human to say, maybe?”

“It can be,” he says carefully.

Nastya shrugs. “Not for me. This is my home, and I will not leave it without the rest of you. That is what I mean. Things are difficult for you, and for Mari, and I know I cannot erase that. I also do not run from it.”

Nicke does not respond right away. They keep walking, and Nastya watches the tops of the trees and the birds dipping and wheeling in the sky. Dmitry’s wards around the property line press comfortably against her, settling her back onto her own land.

“You did leave your family, though,” Nicke points out.

Nastya smiles. “That is a little unfair, Nicklas. You have left a great many people.” She does not look at him as she says this, but a sharp intake of breath tells her the words hit home.

“It’s not the same,” Nicke says. Stops. She admires and pities his restraint, his reluctance even to defend himself.

“No,” Nastya agrees. “It is not the same. You can understand, though, I think, what it is like not to have a place for yourself. To be one of many, not respected as an individual. To be expected only to follow, to be moldable.”

“Yes,” Nicke says quietly. “I understand that.”

“You are a smart man, you can follow my logic. That is not what I have here. We make our own choices, and our own places, just as you and Mari make your own position in this pack.”

Nicke sighs. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for us to stay here,” he says, and it’s more confidence than she expected.

Nastya hums thoughtfully. “Sometimes,” she says slowly, “you can get used to running. After a while, it seems like the only safe thing.”

“It might be safer for you, too,” Nicke points out.

“Without you and Mari?”

“Yes.”

Nastya stops, looking right at him. “You are not good at being selfish.”

Nicke gives a little humorless laugh. “It’s not a habit I cultivate.”

“Think of it this simply, then. It is not just you and Mari anymore. It’s us, all of us: Evgeny, Sasha, Dmitry, me, you, Mari. That is what I mean, we are not separate. The head does not think, ah, I am safer if I cut out my heart. If you leave, so do we. If you fight for a place here, we fight for you.”

“You can’t promise that,” Nicke says, but he looks uncertain for the first time.

“Ask the others, then,” Nastya shrugs. “They say the same.” She looks over Nicke’s shoulder, back to the porch. Evgeny has come out and is watching them. Nicke doesn’t turn, but his posture changes slightly, awareness filtering into his shoulders and back. He takes a deep breath, letting it leak out of him slowly.

“It’s probably easier if we all talk at once,” he says, and it is almost a question. Nastya smiles at him.

“Okay,” she says. “We do that.”

—-

KUZY

Nastya and Nicke start back toward the house, and Kuzy goes inside to wait for them. Dima is scowling, fiddling with the black tourmaline pendant around his neck and renewing the wards on the windows. He’s muttering to himself in a mixture of Russian and English, and Alex is watching in fascination.

“Stop looking so grumpy, Snarls,” Kuzy says. “You’re going to make new Alex think we’re bad hosts.”

“Stop interrupting my visualization,” Dima says, without looking away from the window. Kuzy rolls his eyes.

“What’s he doing?” Alex whispers. He seems delighted rather than annoyed or freaked out, which bodes well for his capacity to fit into the group. Then again, Dima isn’t very scary no matter how hard he tries. Bad magic probably leaves them alone because it feels sorry for him.

“Cursing the house,” Kuzy says.

“Cool.” Alex goes back to staring at Dima, and Kuzy watches Alex.

He's still a little surprised that Nicke brought him back to the closest thing Nicke has to a home. Then again, Kuzy has only known Nicke to be reckless when he thinks he can spare someone he feels responsible for pain. Nicke probably imagines spending all day in an infirmary being poked and prodded at with no familiar faces nearby a fate worth avoiding.

Grisha, summoned by the zing of magic, wanders into the room with his tail in the air. He doesn’t approach Dima, none of them are really at the level of closeness yet to work with each other's familiars, just hops lightly onto a footstool and settles into a crouch.

Sasha, it still feels strange to think of him that way but Alexander isn’t practical now that they have another Alex, doesn’t appear right away. Kuzy curls up in his favorite chair and waits.

Dima winds up his spell as Nastya and Nicke come and settle in the living room, and he goes to sit with them on the sofa. Grisha, as if sensing some sort of signal, hops off the footstool and disappears around the corner.

Sure enough, Sasha appears a minute later, smelling vaguely of woodsmoke with his hair mussed. He’ll have been in his workshop.

“I don’t have long,” Nicke warns. “I’ve been off pack land for hours and I have to go pick up Mari soon.” He’s looking at Alex, still standing near the window, as he says this.

“Come sit with me, little Alex,” Sasha says, dropping into the big armchair. Alex, who Kuzy thinks no one by any definition could call ‘little’, laughs and sits at his feet. He leans back against the base of the chair, and Kuzy is startled by how settled they look together, already. Sasha is like that, though, making up his mind quickly about people and charming them before they’ve had the chance to do the same.

_Just the kind of ability a necromancer might have, sneaking you off balance,_ Kuzy thinks. (From miles away, Kuzy can practically hear the cackle of Koschei echoing Nicke’s laugh at him.)

“There is bad magic in this, I know that much,” Dima says grimly. Kuzy isn’t surprised by this. He’d gathered, between the muttering and the tourmaline.

“Anything specific?” Nastya asks.

Dima shakes his head, and looks a little like he wants to go for the pendant again. “The whole area where they found Alex was criss-crossed with different magical traces, but it was a mess. I couldn’t even tell if it was one witch or more.”

“Witches?” Alex asks.

“Seems like it,” Sasha says. He tugs a lock of Alex’s hair. “I tested for as many poisons as I could think of and didn’t find any, so whatever caused you to lose your memory and end up here is magical. Nothing else could do this to a werewolf.” Alex frowns, looking thoughtful.

Nastya sighs. “There is still the chance that the pack will be able to find where you’re from. Wolves don’t just go missing without someone trying to figure out what happened.”

“Unless he ran from a splinter pack, or was banished,” Nicke says. There is a moment of shocked silence at this, and Kuzy wrestles with a mixture of fondness and frustration. Nicke is used to being blunt, which is unusual for a wolf and even rarer for a Watcher.

“Not very nice to say your mate was banished,” Kuzy says lightly. It’s better not to poke at the other thing. Everyone here knows Nicke and Mari ran from a splinter pack. Well, everyone except Alex.

“I didn’t say he deserved it.” Nicke is smiling a little. He always likes when he shocks people.

“Doesn’t matter anyway. This is my pack, now,” Alex says. The look on Nicke’s face at this is priceless, and Kuzy has to dig his nails into his thigh so he doesn’t burst out laughing.

“We can afford to wait a few days,” Nastya says, wading in diplomatically, “to see if the pack coordinator gets anywhere with her inquiries. The council is appeased for now, providing Alex doesn’t cause any additional trouble.”

“No trouble, right Alex?” Sasha says, tugging Alex’s head back to look at him.

Alex grins. “No trouble.”

Kuzy and Nicke exchange a look. Kuzy’s says ‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’ Nicke’s says something like, ‘We are, both of us, fools.’

“We still need to decide where to keep you,” Nastya says.

“Nicke says guest room,” Alex says confidently.

“You can stay here,” Nastya says slowly, “but it might not be for the best. The pack wants to keep an eye on you. You came through their land, so you’re considered their responsibility until you formally leave the pack or another pack makes a preexisting claim.” She tilts her head toward Nicke. “If you think it would be better for him to stay here, I can work something out.”

“No,” Nicke sighs. “You’re right.”

Alex is frowning. “I stay with Nicke.” Nicke’s face looks like it can’t decide whether to scowl or look pleased.

“Nicke lives with the pack most of the time,” Kuzy explains. “Just witches, here.”

“Oh,” Alex’s face clears. “Okay.”

“You won’t have nearly as much space,” Nicke warns. “My living quarters are small, and you’re coming back here if Mari isn’t okay with this.”

“Mari is Nicke’s daughter,” Sasha explains. It’s a little creepy, how he seems to know Alex was opening his mouth to ask even though he can’t see his face.

“Witch daughter?” Alex asks, looking at Kuzy, looking confused again.

“I only have the one,” Nicke says, purposefully misunderstanding. “You can come to pick her up from school, if you don’t mind being stared at. The other wolves will be curious about you.”

“Want me to come?” Kuzy asks. “Make things easier?”

Nicke frowns, thinking. Nastya taps his wrist and he looks at her. Kuzy isn’t entirely sure how to interpret this, but Nicke’s frown clears and he nods at Kuzy, so it must be okay. “That’s a good idea,” he says. “We can have dinner together, and then make a decision about tonight.”

“Sounds good,” Kuzy says, bouncing to his feet. “Let’s fuck this shit.”

—-

NICKE

Nicke resolutely refuses to acknowledge the stares of the other waiting parents, although he can’t do anything about the flush creeping up his cheeks. Alex seems entirely unbothered, making small talk with Kuzy about the geography of the Capitals’ pack land. Nicke isn’t sure if this is put on or genuine, and it’s starting to really sink in that he’s somehow ended up loosely committed to someone he knows nothing about.

Well, it’s not the first time, and things worked out all right with Mari. _A two year old is a radically different prospect to a soul mate,_ Nicke thinks, arguing with himself.

“Geni!” Mari yells, running and jumping into Kuzy’s arms. She’s fast, and agile enough that she can make it without him needing to bend down, but Kuzy catches her in spite of not being prepared.

“Mashenka!” He kisses her cheek, letting her wrap her arms and legs around him. “You ready for dinner?”

Kuzy starts toward the exit, not looking back to see if Nicke and Alex are following. It’s smart, keeping Mari’s focus on him so she doesn’t notice that they’ve gained a companion until they’re most of the way back to the apartment. She goes quiet when she sees Alex, watching him uncertainly. He smiles at her, and she looks between Nicke and Kuzy.

“He’s not a Watcher,” she says, arms tightening around Kuzy’s neck. He adjusts his hold so it’s more secure, but lets Nicke do the explaining.

“This is Alex,” Nicke says carefully. Mari has a healthy distrust of other wolves, especially adults. Especially betas. Nicke has, perhaps unwisely, failed to discourage this. Nicke himself has a healthy distrust of other wolves. “He is hurt, and needs us to look after him.”

This is a test, and Nicke is half-planning for failure, for Alex to bristle, and claim he can look after himself, all beta bluster. He doesn’t, though, just keeps the same calm, happy expression, not staring at Mari directly but looking non-confrontationally at her cheek and relaxing his jaw.

“Oh,” Mari thinks for a minute, propping her chin on Kuzy’s shoulder. “That’s okay then.”

“Let’s see how you feel after dinner,” Nicke says. “He can go stay with Geni, if you don’t want him to stay with us.”

Mari frowns at him. “Why can’t Geni stay?”

“We talked about this,” Nicke says stiffly, all too aware of their audience. “Geni needs to stay with the other Watchers.” Mari pushes her face into Kuzy’s neck and doesn’t answer.

“What do you want for dinner, Masha?” Kuzy asks, all cheer as if he’s failed to notice the tension completely.

He manages to prod her out of her sulk relatively quickly. He always does, and Nicke questions for the thousandth time this week whether he’s making the right decision here.

Kuzy can’t be like a second parent to her, not as a Watcher. Not if they want to fit into the pack, not if Mari is to have a chance at a decent rank, to disperse and have options in marriage and jobs. He wants that for her. She’ll always be watched and not quite trusted as a bitten wolf, but growing up in a pack, having a history that can be traced and verified, that will give her much more than Nicke ever had. She won’t have to fight for every scrap, not if he can help it. A little unhappiness at the obligatory distance between them and Kuzy, surely that is a price worth paying.

Nicke is tempted to disappear into the kitchen once they’re back at the apartment. He wants to put Alex in one corner and Kuzy and Mari in another, and then bury himself in food preparation and forget about all the storms brewing on his personal horizon for a few minutes.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he sets Mari up at the kitchen table with instructions to explain her homework to Alex, and he gives Kuzy the vegetables to chop while he starts browning some ground beef. Alex doesn’t complain, probably more out of politeness than any interest in hearing about which fruits grow in which seasons. He seems content, though, both his scent and his demeanor. He curls down so he can talk to Mari more easily, and asks her questions, and complements her drawing of an apple.

“Maybe siblings?” Kuzy says quietly, voice covered up by the sizzle of the pan and the chatter of the others.

“Maybe pups of his own,” Nicke says pessimistically. Kuzy snorts.

“Maybe he planned this whole thing to assassinate one stubborn wolf,” he says. “Maybe blood curse gonna get you at last. Not everything’s a disaster, Nicke.”

This feels patently unfair. Nicke shoots Kuzy a venomous look. “Not all of us have somewhere to crawl back to if this falls apart,” he snaps, mean and unfair and sharp. Kuzy doesn’t flinch.

“You bite me deeper than that when I first find you, Kolya. Gotta try harder if you want to push me away.”

Kuzy goes back to chopping vegetables, and Nicke fumes until he realizes that Mari is watching him. Alex is, too.

“Done already?” Nicke says, injecting a note of false cheer into his voice.

“Yes,” Alex beams at Mari. “She is very smart.”

“This is easy,” Mari says, still looking at Nicke. “Papa had me memorize crops and seasons last year.”

Nicke winces. This makes him sound like some sort of nightmare parent, constantly hovering over and prodding at his child. Alex just looks thoughtful, though.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Nicke says, changing the subject. “Go pack your bag for school tomorrow and wash up, okay?”

“Okay.” Mari looks at Alex. “Do you want to help pick a book for tonight?” she asks politely. Hopefully this means she’ll pick something other than the little book of family folktales Kuzy compiled for her. That’s been story time for over half the days this month.

“Sure,” Alex says. “You show me your favorites?” Mari smiles at him, and Nicke wishes he could win her over so easily.

—-

KUZY

Kuzy recognizes the ‘can I speak to you alone’ dance Alex is doing. It isn’t particularly subtle, and Nicke doesn’t say anything when he tugs Alex out into the hall with a cheery “Be right back!”

“Let’s go outside,” Kuzy adds. “Fewer nosy wolves there.” Alex smiles a little at this, although he still looks uncertain. “What is it?” Kuzy prods, after they’ve been walking for a minute in silence.

“It seems like I cause a lot of problems,” Alex says, slowly.

Kuzy snorts. “It’s okay. Not your fault. You don’t have pack or remember anything. Feel bad if we find out you stole a witch’s broom or something. Otherwise don’t worry about it.”

Alex doesn’t look any less sheepish. “I cause problems between you and Nicke?” It’s somewhere between a statement and a question.

“Nicke causes his own problem half the time,” Kuzy says dismissively. “Stubborn, pretends he’s not reckless and then steals a child and a husband. Sheds everywhere, too.”

“But you aren’t staying with him,” Alex prods. “Because of me?”

“I’m not the husband he steals,” Kuzy clarifies. “That’s you.”

Alex frowns. “Because of,” he holds up the mate mark. Kuzy looks down at it, thinking. It would be a lot easier, for things between him and Nicke to be that simple. Nothing about Nicke has ever been simple. (Nothing about Kuzy has ever been simple, either).

“No,” Kuzy says, after a while. “Don’t worry about that. Nicke and I will be fine. He has his way right now, and then later he sees I’m right and I have mine.” Alex looks even more confused and not convinced, and Kuzy sighs. “Worry about me when you are talking to me, and Nicke when you talk to Nicke. Make sure Masha is safe. The rest takes care of itself.”

Alex nods, looking a little more certain of his footing. Kuzy wishes he felt the same way. He supposes he can just be glad Alex talked to him about this, rather than Nicke. Who knows what Nicke would have said.

Kuzy is tired, and not just because the sun has already set by the time he makes his way off pack land and back toward the big house. Not just because of late night researching, or because of all the walking between wolves and Watchers and the struggling archive that’s barely even a library yet.

He didn’t expect things to be easy, here, but he can admit, even if only to himself, that he hoped they would be easier. Being away from Nicke and Masha is hard, and it smarts, the way Nicke only half-asked how Kuzy felt about all of this.

He understands, he might even have agreed if it had been a genuine question, but he doesn’t like it. Masha is his child and Nicke is his…whatever the word is for what they are to each other. They should all be together, and he doesn’t know that this separation is best for any of them.

Alex, at least, is potentially a distraction. If he is a catastrophe, well, they’ve dealt with those before. Kuzy is choosing to hope that he will be an unexpected boon. Someone to settle Nicke a little; he always does well with responsibility, and it’s one of the few things that lets him form connections.

Kuzy lets himself into the house quietly. A couple of the lights are on upstairs, but the entire bottom floor of the house is dark. He slips off his shoes and pads into the kitchen, flipping on the light.

“Fuck,” Kuzy squawks, hopping back in surprise. Sasha is sitting at the table. “Why are you in the dark?” Sasha is too busy laughing at him to answer. Kuzy grumbles his way to the cabinet, getting down a glass.

“You’ve gotten too used to Nicke,” Sasha says in Russian. “You forget I can understand all the rude things you’re mumbling about me.”

“You underestimate me,” Kuzy responds tartly, continuing in Russian as well and pouring himself some orange juice. “I can just be more creative in Russian.”

“Nothing creative about calling me-”

“Why are you sitting in the dark?” Kuzy interrupts loudly.

“I just want to hear how dinner went.” Sasha leans his head on his hand, posture relaxing. It makes him look even more dangerous, somehow. “Little Alex get along with Mari?”

“It went fine,” Kuzy says. Sasha looks at him, and he looks back.

He's used to dealing with comments about Nicke, from the snide nasty ones about what it’s appropriate to do with pet dogs to his father’s elliptical, vaguely supportive comments about how wolf and Watcher marriages aren’t so unheard of these days, especially if they move up to Portland, with its nice suburbs and big blended pack. He doesn’t like it, but he’s used to it.

This doesn’t feel like familiar ground, somehow. Something about Sasha throws him off balance, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, to understand what it is Sasha wants from him. Dima and Nastya don’t push, but they radiate a kind of friendly concern, an easy persistence around pulling Nicke and Mari into the coven. Sasha, for the most part, sticks to Sasha.

Maybe he really is just curious about Alex. Maybe Kuzy should just blow him off, go to bed.

“Why did you come here?” Kuzy asks instead.

“The kitchen?” Sasha asks, smiling his strange cat’s smile. Kuzy snorts.

“You’re funnier in English.” He finishes his juice, rinsing the glass out and putting it in the dishwasher.

“You’re a diviner,” Sasha says.

“That’s not any more of an answer than ‘the kitchen.’”

Sasha ignores this. “It’s a hard field of magic. Lots of memorization, research, analysis, narrowing down possibilities. Some people think it’s all touching someone’s old hairbrush and suddenly you know all their secrets but it’s not, is it?”

_Thanks for the Magic 101 lesson_ , Kuzy thinks, but if Sasha is going to be anything approaching genuine he guesses he needs to meet him halfway.

“It’s a lot of work,” Kuzy says, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. “Not a lot of certainty.”

“No,” Sasha smiles at him, a full, brilliant one this time. “You’re good at it.”

Kuzy tucks his elbows in against his sides. He never knows how to respond to praise. They’re both aware of his skill level. It’s not something debatable, so why is it worth mentioning? “You’re not a diviner,” he points out instead.

“No.” Sasha wriggles in the chair, tucking his feet up under his body.

“What are you?” Kuzy asks. It’s extremely rude, both overly familiar and too direct, but he has a feeling Sasha will not mind. Indeed, Sasha grins at him again.

“It’s a little puzzle, isn’t it? You have a wolf pack that needs Watchers. The closest family are trying to Watch two packs, stretched thin even with the help of a few Attached. You can’t split the Watcher family, that always leads to territory disputes and falling outs. Attached are easier, they don’t need a whole family but they can keep an eye on things and know a little magic, but they’re really not practical once a pack gets over twenty. So, you start a new Watcher family. You pull from big families in different places, set them up in a new archive with no history and nothing to fight over. But, who do you need? A wolf witch, obviously. Every family needs a head. A warder, that’s just sensible. Just because we know there’s nothing to steal in the archive yet doesn’t mean no one will try. A diviner,” Sasha pauses, tilting his head. “Well, not a bad choice. They know a lot about magic, more than most, and are usually good at finding out secrets. Especially one who knows wolves, who runs with them, can earn their trust.”

“Yes, they get a real bargain with me here for so cheap,” Kuzy cuts in. “What’s your point?”

“You asked what I am,” Sasha says mildly. “I’m trying to tell you.”

“You writing a poem about us? Or are you the superfluous man?”

Sasha laughs. “Maybe if I get bored. Not yet. You are very entertaining.”

Kuzy tries to glare at him, but it’s probably undercut by the fact that he can feel himself flushing. “I’m going to bed,” he says haughtily.

“You aren’t going to listen to the end of my poem?” Sasha pouts. “Bad audience, walking out early.”

“You talk too long,” Kuzy grumbles.

“Just a little more,” Sasha says, pinching his fingers together. “What’s the worst thing you can imagine?”

Kuzy gives him a look. “I can imagine a lot.”

“Worst light thing, then. Not the worst heavy thing, that reshapes your life around it, fast. The worst light thing, that settles over you like something clinging and drags you into it slowly and steadily.”

“Conversations with failed poets I’m stuck living with,” Kuzy says.

“Okay,” Sasha shrugs. “That’s why I’m here, to answer your question. Unfortunate for you, that getting away from my worst thing pushes you right into yours.”

Sasha doesn’t look angry or upset, still just lightly amused, but Kuzy thinks he has maybe miscalculated a little. He is used to crows and wolves, who will pester you until they get what they want, who will snap at you and fly away if you annoy them. He is not used to cats, who need to be coaxed.

Sasha wanders off, to bed or to his workshop or to summon demons at the nearest crossroads, for all Kuzy knows.

Kuzy goes upstairs, and sleeps in the room with the canopy and the stars, and thinks about the way slow things can hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to ask world building questions and I will happily answer if they aren't spoilers! This fic is the third attempt at writing something in this ‘verse so there's a lot that's only tangential to the story that I actually put a lot of thought into, because I am a world building nerd.


	3. Chapter 3

ALEX

Nicke tries to insist on sleeping on the couch, setting it up with a blanket and pillow. Alex circumvents this by the simple but effective device of not arguing, and then curling up on the couch and pretending to be asleep when Nicke goes to tuck Mari in for the night.

He keeps his breathing even as Nicke comes into the living room. Nicke hesitates for a moment, then pulls the blanket up a little, tucking it more firmly around Alex, and turns out the light.

Alex wakes up to the sun streaming in through the living room windows and the smell of bacon. Mari is talking softly in the kitchen, but she goes quiet when Alex ambles in.

“Good morning,” Nicke says politely. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

Alex considers offering to help, although he doesn’t know where anything is or what, exactly, he could do to assist, but Nicke is already putting things on plates and getting juice out of the refrigerator for Mari.

“Thank you,” Alex says. His voice comes out morning-hoarse, and he clears his throat.

“Sleep well?” Nicke asks, the tiniest hint of asperity in his voice.

“Yes. Couch is very comfortable,” Alex smirks at him. “I see why you try to take it for yourself.”

This startles a little laugh out of Nicke, and Alex preens. “Eat your breakfast,” Nicke says, shaking his head and disappearing back into his room to get dressed.

“Can I have your bacon?” Mari asks, as soon as her father is out of earshot. Alex passes it over, and she smiles at him. He smiles back. He isn’t above a little bribery.

“You have school?” he asks her.

“It’s Saturday,” she says, wrinkling her nose at him.

“Oh.” He taps his chin. “What’s on Saturday, then?”

“Well,” Mari folds her hands, sitting up straight. “That’s pack day, here. It’s kind of fun. Everyone brings food and sometimes there are games and stuff. Where we used to live before this they didn’t have that.”

“No?”

“No.” She looks down at her plate. “There weren’t wolves there, just Geni’s family.”

“You don’t like having other wolves around?” Alex asks, half curious and half trying to distract her from her sadness. Mari frowns thoughtfully, and she looks so uncannily like Nicke in that moment that Alex has to bite back a smile.

“They’re okay. I like Oliver.” This perks her up a little, and she chatters to Alex about her schoolmates and lessons until Nicke reappears in the kitchen a few minutes later.

“Good, you’re finished eating,” Nicke says. “Go wash up, we need to leave in a few minutes.” Mari scrapes her chair back and scampers off, and Nicke looks at Alex thoughtfully. “I don’t really know what to do with you. We’re supposed to meet with the pack coordinator tomorrow, but everyone’s off work today. I guess you can stay here if you want.”

“Not coming to pack day?” Alex asks. Nicke looks startled. “Mari told me,” Alex says.

“Oh.” Nicke still looks a little thrown. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” he says slowly. “I don’t know how people will react, though. They tend to give us a bit of a wide berth.” Nicke grimaces. “Not a very good bargain in a mate for you, I’m afraid.”

“Why?”

Nicke looks at him, considering. “Mari and I are both bitten wolves,” he says after a minute. “Do you know what that means?”

Alex tries to think. His brain feels too-light, the smattering of memories of the past few days rattling around in a big empty space. Some things: Watchers, pack life, the beta mark on his hip, seem vaguely familiar. Some things, like the mate mark, like bitten wolves, feel like stories he heard a very long time ago and has mostly forgotten. Most things: what foods he likes, the smells here, the press of strange wolves all around him, feel entirely new. He realizes he has been quiet for a while, but Nicke is still just watching him, patient. “No,” he says, finally. “I don’t know, sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Nicke looks relieved, and Alex relaxes slightly. “That’s probably better, honestly. People say a lot of…a lot of foolish things, about us.”

He probably intends to say more, but Mari comes back into the kitchen just then and Nicke’s attention is needed to fix her ponytail and talk her into wearing socks with her shoes.

“Is he coming with us?” Mari asks.

“It’s rude to talk about people like they aren’t here,” Nicke says. Mari rolls her eyes at him, then looks at Alex.

“Are you coming with us?”

“If that’s okay with you,” Alex says.

Mari shrugs, indifferent. “You can talk to Papa. Maybe he’ll be less grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Nicke protests.

“Are, too. You’re always grumpy on pack day.”

“I don’t think three times can be an always.”

Mari looks at Alex. “Good luck,” she sing-songs.

“Horrid child,” Nicke says, smoothing a hand over her head. “Come on. Let’s go scandalize everyone.”

—-

NICKE

Nicke is always grumpy on pack days. He’s grumpy most of the time these days, to be honest. Still, it’s surprisingly pleasant to have even the prospect of someone to talk to. He usually is just stuck following Oliver’s parents, Mia and Nolan, around like a third wheel and awkwardly joining in on their conversations. He can’t afford to look standoffish and like he’s not trying, and they’re nice enough to at least talk to him.

“You’re going to be popular today,” Mia, says, after she greets Nicke politely. He appreciates that she doesn’t try to hug him. It’s a standard pack greeting, but Nicke still doesn’t feel like his pack is larger than three. “I’ve already had five people ask me about you.”

_Great_ , Nicke thinks sourly. He makes introductions, trying to look at least vaguely happy to be here. Mia and Nolan are both alphas, which probably wouldn’t be a cause for comment in a bigger and more established pack. Here, though, it’s interpreted as being a bit selfish, neither of them choosing a beta mate. Nicke isn’t precisely grateful for the small-mindedness of the pack, but it is a relief to not be the only sort-of outsider.

They barely get through the initial polite comments about the weather before some of the other parents are edging closer. Mia wasn’t kidding, they are popular.

“We just wanted to introduce ourselves,” someone Nicke has never spoken to before says, smiling broadly. “It’s not every day we get a new wolf in the pack.”

“Yes, it’s been almost a month since the last two,” Nicke says, smiling just as broadly. Mia tries to cover up her laugh with a cough.

Alex, either by personality or by blissful inexperience with hypocrisy, is friendly and polite to everyone. He, at least, seems totally comfortable letting them hug him, and give him a polite sniff. Maybe Nicke should have Kuzy wipe Nicke’s own memory, if it makes you so cheery. He kind of doubts it would have the same effect.

Alex fields the same falsely charitable enquiries about his health and memory, the mate mark, his plans for staying with the pack, where he’s living, what the Watchers have to say about all of this, with equanimity. No, he doesn’t remember anything. Yes, this pack is very friendly and welcoming. The Watchers have been wonderfully supportive.

Nicke is sort of a part of all of these same conversations, because five minutes after their arrival Alex wraps an arm around his waist. This makes Nicke go tense, initially, and Alex starts to pull away. Nicke forces himself to relax. Casual physical contact between mates is expected, and Alex is new here and probably needs some reassurance, the physical reminder that Nicke is there with him.

It isn’t so bad, once Nicke gets past his initial surprise. Nicke enjoys not being in the spotlight, for once, because Alex pulls attention to him like a magnet. Nicke, at his side, easily fades into the background. Alex smells nice, too, like summer grass and sunlight and contentment. Alex’s arm at his waist doesn’t grate on him, or make his skin crawl, like touch from strange wolves frequently does.

“Yes, I stay with Nicke,” Alex says, pulling Nicke’s attention back to the conversation. He had been watching Mari, wolf ears out and panting with laughter, playing tag with a few other kids.

“Not with the Watchers?” someone pushes. Nicke stiffens slightly, and Alex rubs a thumb over his hip soothingly.

“Not very practical for Mari to get to school,” Alex says.

“Oh, of course,” the person says, sounding disappointed.

“Are you hungry?” Nicke asks Alex abruptly.

“Sure,” Alex says. “It was nice to meet you,” he adds, waving goodbye to the little cluster around them and letting Nicke tug him over to the tables of food.

“Insufferable busybodies,” Nicke grumbles. “What, do they think you’re going to tell them I locked you in the basement or that we’re out having orgies with the Watchers on a weeknight?”

“No one thinks you’re so irresponsible,” Alex says seriously. “They know you only have orgies on weekends. Sleep in the next day.”

Nicke laughs, shaking his head. “Well, thanks for putting up with this, I guess.”

“It’s fun,” Alex says. Nicke raises an eyebrow at him and Alex smiles a little, bumping into Nicke softly. “Okay, not fun. Except the part where I see how many people you try to murder with your eyes.”

“I do not,” Nicke says, knowing full well he has no leg to stand on, with this.

“It’s true,” Alex says. “Soon people start pulling me aside, asking if I see bodies in your apartment.”

“As if I’d show you where I hid them,” Nicke grumbles. Alex laughs, delighted.

Mari comes to eat with them, negotiated into having some corn and salad in exchange for a popsicle, and then is running off with Oliver again. Nicke leans back on his elbows on the picnic blanket, Alex beside him. It’s nice outside, still warm but not punishingly hot anymore, and Nicke appreciates the time to just be. He gets very little quiet, between the happy noise of Mari and Kuzy and the exhausting obligations of pack life. It’s draining, being simultaneously watched and ignored by the other wolves, having to monitor everything he does and says, keeping his distance from the one friend he actually has.

Alex makes an enquiring noise at him and Nicke opens his eyes. Alex is eating a popsicle, and has blue staining his lips and shirt and probably tongue. “You look ridiculous,” Nicke tells him. Alex sticks out his tongue, which is indeed blue.

“Want some?” Alex asks. He’s bitten chunks off the end of the popsicle. Nicke’s teeth hurt in protest.

“No, thank you.”

“Afraid to look silly?” Alex asks, grinning at him wide and blue. Nicke narrows his eyes at him.

“Maybe I just don’t like the blue ones.”

Alex eats the last bit of popsicle, hopping to his feet. “I’ll get you one. Which do you want?”

“A brownie,” Nicke says.

Alex shakes his head sadly. “Old man. Won’t even eat a popsicle in summer.” He goes to get Nicke a brownie, though, bringing back a little plate with cookies and some fudge as well.

“Good part about being an old man is that there’s no one to tell me I’m eating too much sugar,” Nicke says. Alex tries to pick a piece off the edge of his brownie and Nicke smacks his hand away. “You should have gotten more if you wanted some,” he says.

“Mean,” Alex says, pouting. Nicke rolls his eyes, but holds out the brownie to let Alex take a bite.

“You owe me a cookie,” Nicke warns.

“You can have the small one,” Alex says, and just laughs when Nicke pinches his side.

—-

KUZY

There are a lot of rules about spell books, grimoires, sigils, even notes scribbled on scrap paper. The idea is always to keep magical knowledge in the family, as much as possible. The Watchers can’t control all of it, things have a way of slipping out, but they can control a lot of it. You don’t get access to the archive unless you’ve been with the family for a long time, unless you’re staying for a long time. You learn what you need to know for your role, and the head of the family, or their second, decides what that is.

Kuzy was always a bit of a favorite. Spoiled, his cousins say. Magic is mostly study, but not entirely. There is a tiny ineffable curl of DNA or predisposition or personality, something that makes some witches excellent while others will only ever be good. Kuzy was excellent, from very young, and also curious. He slogged his way through the ancient diaries of great-great-great uncles and grandmothers, written in a nightmarish blend of languages that are half family code and no proper language at all. He listened to the boring rambling stories disguised as “when I was your age” lectures, swooping down on the little kernels of knowledge they dropped and stashing them in his stacks of journals.

Divining is a lot of reading, and a lot of thinking, and a lot of learning about people, and the way that they weave their ways around each other. It’s also a lot of uncertainty, and being wrong, and listening to yourself anyway.

In retrospect, they really should have seen it coming, the way Kuzy soaked up as much knowledge as he could, packed it up, and went off to start his own life. Then again, maybe none of that would have happened, if it weren’t for Nicke. Nicke, like magic, is ineffable, and inexplicable, and something you rearrange your life to keep on chasing.

Starting again: with only his own journals (and, he had to sneak those past several aged relatives), some second-hand copies of basic magic books, and whatever the other three could smuggle, borrow, or steal from home, it’s difficult.

The stakes: the need to impress a pack with authority and knowledge that none of them quite have, the need to cohere as a family unit, the complication of Nicke, and then Alex, it doesn’t make things easier.

Kuzy, by long habit, fiddles. Things are difficult, heavy, important, so he skims his hands along the edges. He looks for a loose thread to pull, a misaligned brick, something that doesn’t fit quite right. That is divining, really, pressing your fingers into life until it clicks and grinds and opens for you.

Used bookstores are a good place for magic. The weight of thousands of fingertips, the heaviness of dust, the bell-jingle of a perpetually opening door, they settle over his skin like his mother’s kitchen. The press of a sea of words, shored up into little rivulets and ponds and oceans, slips in between his fingers and dances enticingly just out of reach. The anticipation of thousands of stories, ripe and ready to be plucked from between the covers of books.

There are a lot of rules to magic: who can access it and how and where, but magic doesn’t like rules. It likes to sneak through cracks, and turn up unexpectedly, and sometimes if you wander far enough and only look out of the corner of your eye, you find it.

Kuzy is not looking for magic, today, not any more than he usually is anyway. He’s looking for an apology. Even if Sasha’s renewed devotion to his workshop and the basement in the library had not hinted at his dissatisfaction with their last conversation, Grisha’s newfound tendency to hiss at Kuzy and try to chase his shoelaces would have.

The part of him that he is trying to pack away into boxes, the one used to having at least three people telling him what to do at any given time, wants to let Nastya or Dima sort it out. Kuzy reads people better at a remove, and that can lead to mistakes. It was a mistake, forgetting that just because something looks unshakeable from the outside doesn’t mean it is.

He flips through a copy of _Eugene Onegin_ , in English, and discards it as probably a bad idea.

What does Sasha even like?

Kuzy has carefully avoided looking too closely, at any of his new family, really, but especially Sasha. People don’t like being read, pinned quickly in by insight, and he thought it would be smarter to let things develop naturally. He has mostly been trying to refamilarize himself with his old journals, settling into the feel of the land and the air and the wolves here, and, as always, keeping an eye and a half on Nicke. The sooner he can establish his value to the pack, the more secure Nicke will be, the more he can relax.

He gets a flash of blue, and warm, and the smell of grass, and realizes his attention has slipped again.

He picks up an illustrated book about a fox, for Masha, and tries a different bookstore.

—-

ALEX

It is a good day, and an early night. Alex is braced, a little, for their meeting with the pack coordinator the next day, but he falls asleep easily enough.

Not braced enough, Alex dreams.

He is somewhere frozen and cold, coming into a slow awareness of it like he’s fading into existence. It is not fast, but eternal, like he has been buried under layers of snow for centuries, like time has slipped off track and lost its meaning.

Something flashes in the corner of his eye: a face twisted in anger, something awful and writhing that vanishes before he can comprehend it, a hot red glut of blood and snow. He blinks and it retreats.

The cold makes it hard to think, to concentrate. The images slip over his mind like water, not catching. There is something important, something he needs to hold on to, but it’s so cold the fingertips of his mind go numb and loose.

There is nothing here, not anymore, just the vise of ice over his chest and the not-sound of snowflakes landing. It is cold and white and still, just snow and the sound of his own breathing. There is nothing, just a loneliness bigger than time and the feeling that he is forgetting something important.

He wakes up, hot and shivering with the blanket bunched under him and sweat drying on his forehead. The sun streams in through the windows of the quiet apartment, and time resettles into its proper groove around him.

It’s just a dream. He doesn’t mention it to Nicke.

—-

KUZY

Kuzy goes to find Sasha as soon as they’ve all settled in at the library. He walks quietly through the big, high-ceilinged halls, trying not to draw attention from Nastya or Dima. He doesn’t particularly want an audience for this, just in case it goes poorly.

The door is a little ajar, but Kuzy taps politely on it anyway.

“Come in,” Sasha calls. He spins around in his chair, turning his back to the bubbling cauldron as Kuzy comes in.

“Do you have a minute?” Kuzy asks.

“Sure.” Sasha’s eyes flick to the book under his arm, and Kuzy holds it out awkwardly.

“Here.”

“Need help with translation?” Sasha teases. Kuzy tries not to think about how he spent most of yesterday afternoon and evening painstakingly translating bits of his notes into Russian or English, and gets flustered anyway.

“Just keep it. It’s for you.”

Sasha looks startled, then thoughtful, and Kuzy fights the urge to flee the room when he opens the book. It’s sort of messy, bits from different old journals cut or copied out and reassembled into a chunky uneven whole. Magical theory, family lore, his favorite article from when he was younger, a series of questions he’s still looking for answers to. Sasha runs a finger down one of the pages, flipping through slowly and then feeling the bumps of the spine and the unevenness of the edges.

“Why?” Sasha asks, but it doesn’t sound dismissive. It sounds heavy. Kuzy relaxes a little, knowing that he sees, at least, why this is precious.

“I don’t let myself imagine a worst thing,” Kuzy says slowly, not looking at Sasha. “It happens anyway, faster than you think. No point in worrying about it before, you know?”

“Last pack I was with, I was a poison specialist,” Sasha says. It’s unexpected enough that Kuzy looks up at him. Sasha looks just as he always does, sleepily aware and lightly smiling.

“Oh?” Kuzy says, trying to sound interested but not too interested. This is surprising. He and Nastya came straight from Watcher families, and Dima from being attached; he had assumed Sasha had a similar story.

“I’m older than I look,” Sasha says. “I’ve had a lot of jobs. Not just Watcher but attached, also.”

“Poison specialist usually lives with pack,” Kuzy says.

“Not what I’m doing here. Not a diviner anymore, either.” Sasha pauses, looking at the wall to the left of Kuzy. Kuzy leans against the door frame, and lets him have the silence. This appears to be enough disclosure for the day, though, because Sasha looks at him again after a moment. “Thank you,” he smiles.

“You’re welcome,” Kuzy says. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Yeah.” Sasha gives him a nod, and turns back to his cauldron.

—-

NICKE

When Nicke gets back to the apartment from dropping off Mari, Alex is awake and looking slightly lost.

“You okay?” Nicke asks cautiously. Alex snaps into focus, sudden and bright.

“Sure. We going to the meeting?”

“Yeah. Did you eat?” Alex hesitates, and Nicke rolls his eyes. “You have time for food. Come sit. I’ll make you something.”

Alex doesn’t argue, at least, loping after him into the kitchen and sitting at the table. He props his head on a hand, watching Nicke. Nicke doesn’t press him into conversation, busy thinking about how he’s going to spin all this with the pack coordinator. He doesn’t particularly expect any surprises. Alex did well at pack day yesterday, and they’re still over a week away from the full moon, with another Saturday coming before it. Besides, Alex is an adult, and a born wolf, and he has a mate mark. He should be fine at the full, as long as he’s near Nicke.

The only question, really, is what to do with him in the meantime. Part of the problem is that Nicke still hasn’t settled very well into the pack. He doesn’t have a place; they’re going to have to find somewhere else to stick him, along with Alex, after the latest failure with the Defenders. Nicke doesn’t entirely blame himself for this. This pack is not set up to receive dispersals. They aren’t used to new wolves coming in with any kind of regularity, not yet, and there isn’t a system in place to set them up in jobs and quickly integrate them into the pack hierarchy.

Even with his birth pack status unknown, though, Alex is a simpler commodity than Nicke. He’s strong and solid, healthy other than the pesky problem of the missing memory, and having a mate anchors him to this pack. _He’ll probably fit in wherever they put him_ , Nicke thinks, a little bitterly.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asks, and Nicke jumps a little. “You glare at eggs like they killed your family,” he expands.

“Maybe they did,” Nicke says tartly, stabbing at the eggs with a spatula again. Alex doesn’t reply to this, just keeps watching him. It makes a sullen silence surprisingly difficult. Nicke is used to Kuzy, who can’t shut up for more than two minutes together and always has a comeback, or Mari, who is just as bad. “I don’t know where they’re going to put us,” Nicke says, more honest than he had planned on being. It’s just so easy, to talk to Alex. Alex, who has no history, no crushing weight of expectations on him, who floats next to him as airy and buoyant as a bird. It’s easy to forget that that weight could still be coming, lurking just out of the picture like the other shoe perpetually dropping.

“We figure it out,” Alex says. It should frustrate Nicke, like Alex is saying it’s easy, but it doesn’t. Alex just sounds sure, not flippant. Nicke glares at the eggs some more and herds them onto a plate with some cold sausages and toast. He sets the plate down in front of Alex, settling in across from him with a cup of tea. “You eat earlier?” Alex asks. He’s shuffling everything on the plate into two neat halves, and Nicke almost lies.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” he says instead. Alex smiles a little, knocking his foot against Nicke’s ankle.

“Not fair,” he says. “You worry about everything.” Nicke pulls a face at this, and Alex laughs at him, and Nicke lets Alex feed him the last bit of toast and jam. Whatever, he’s a werewolf.

He’s always hungry.

—-

NASTYA

Sasha taps politely on the open door to Nastya’s office. It’s a big, sunny room on the bottom floor of the archive with built-in book cases, a few comfortable chairs, and her journals lined up neatly under the window. The building doesn’t have internet yet. It can affect some magic weirdly so Dima needs to finish making sure the ritual room is well insulated and warded first. Nastya has her laptop open on the desk in front of her anyway. She’s used to keeping all her notes on there, although she does keep hard copies of her most valuable spells and research as well.

“Have a minute?” Sasha asks. She closes her laptop.

“Sure.” Nastya gestures to a chair, but he smiles and shakes his head slightly.

“Let’s have tea.”

“Okay,” she agrees, following him down into the kitchenette. She’s not wary, exactly, but she is curious what’s so important. There’s no point in pushing, people will talk when they’re ready and Sasha more than many takes his time. Nastya focuses on the ritual of putting water on to boil, taking out the mugs, poking through the cabinets for a box of cookies and setting them on a plate. Sasha pours, cutting up a lemon for Nastya and adding a tiny bit of cream to his own cup.

“Thank you,” he says, as she hands him a cookie. Nastya hums in acknowledgment, sipping her tea. Sasha leaves a little silence, looking out the window to his left almost absentmindedly. She’s starting to think maybe he just wanted company when he clears his throat and glances briefly at her before looking down at the table. “The full moon is next Tuesday.”

“It is,” Nastya says.

“Our first here.” They had gotten here just after the last full moon, intentionally, so they would have some time to settle in. Nastya thinks she might see where he is going, with this conversation.

“It’s traditional, to have family dinner that evening,” Nastya says. Sasha’s bright eyes dart over her face, and he relaxes slightly.

“Yes,” he agrees. He stirs his tea, looking thoughtfully out into the garden again. “Your family did that?”

“Every month. My great-grandfather at first, and then my grandmother hosted.”

“We have just the one house,” Sasha says, very carefully. Nastya taps the knob of his wrist gently. He looks at her.

“I’m not going to be offended, if you want to host,” she says plainly. “We are family.”

Sasha smiles, a little ruefully. “Family is not a guarantee of getting along.”

“No,” Nastya laughs. “But I like it here,” she leans forward, tapping the side of her nose, “and not just because I’m in charge.”

“I don’t want to, anyway,” Sasha says. He’s looking out the window again, but he seems much less tense. Nastya regards him thoughtfully. They have not talked much, about hierarchy. They’re so small they don’t really need to, especially not without more children and inheritance complications. She is the de facto head as the wolf witch, but Sasha has by far the most and longest experience. He has been in a Watcher family, and an attached, and who knows what else. He keeps his past very close, and Nastya was raised a Watcher. She has both a keen eye for secrets and the respect not to pursue them. Openly, at least.

They're all here for different reasons. Nastya, it’s true, wants more control than she could have had at home. She was far down in ranking there, barely even allowed clearance for the front rooms of the archive. Evgeny is the simplest in some ways. He just has baggage, and is good enough that it’s worth it to take the baggage on. Two wolves for an actual diviner, a bargain by any standards. Dmitry is not so far from home. He was here with the last set of attached, and decided to stay on because he likes the area and wants to settle a little. He made it clear from the start he didn’t want to lead, though. He likes warding, and doesn’t have the patience or the experience to negotiate with the pack and organize family events.

Sasha, Nastya is not so sure of. From what she’s heard, he has a little bit of a reputation for not fitting quite right. Not for long, anyway. He’s proven to have more of a grasp of the elaborate politeness rituals of Watchers and wolves than Evgeny, or more patience for them, perhaps. His record with poisons is impeccable (the cousin who told Nastya that tried to wheedle a copy of his notes on xanth out of her), he doesn’t have a history of conflicts with any of the packs he’s lived with, and she highly suspects (but cannot prove) that she’s tracked down at least one of his pen names.

“All right,” Nastya says peaceably. She’s been quite for a while, but Sasha seems almost sleepy now that he’s said his piece.

“Just let me know if you need anything.”

Nastya taps the table, thinking. Dinner will be simple enough. They all cook and eat together most nights, anyway, and everyone knows not to make plans on the full moon. Her only real concern is Evgeny. Nicke, if he runs with the pack as expected, will be fine. Should be fine. Wolves can get ill on the full moon, if they’re cut off or isolated from their packs. The only problem is, she is not entirely certain who Nicke’s body has decided its pack is.

“I think,” Nastya says slowly, “that someone needs to talk to Nicke.”

“Probably,” Sasha agrees. He doesn’t look like he’s going to volunteer for this job, unfortunately.

The last time didn’t go very well. Nicke had sparingly recited his full moon history and plans the first day they arrived here, looking rather as if the information was being yanked out of him word by word. None of them had wanted to push, to be rude by asking more about such a private matter. Nicke, as a bitten wolf, has doubtless had to put up with prying by every born wolf he’s ever met. He has, quite possibly, had to endure full moons alone before. Some packs isolate their bitten wolves on the moon as a matter of course.

For the past few years, having Evgeny and Mari with him was enough to stave off the shaking, weakness, pain, and fatigue of a lone wolf. Now, he won’t have either of them. Mari will be with the other children too young to shift, guarded by a small contingent of Defenders. Evgeny…well. He cannot be on pack land during the moon, none of them can. It would be a flagrant breach of etiquette, and to do so without invitation might permanently damage their relationship with the pack.

“I’ll take Nicke and Alex if you take Evgeny,” Nastya tries. Sasha slants a cat’s smile at her.

“Delegate just like a family head,” he teases. “Take the easier job.”

Nastya purses her lips. “You’re right-” she starts, but he holds up a hand.

“I’ll take care of all three of them, don’t worry. You just focus on dinner.”

Nastya should probably protest, but if he wants to do the hard part she’s not going to stop him. “If you like,” she says with a shrug.

“Oh yes.” Sasha grins. “This will be fun.”

—-

ALEX

It’s hot, both outside and in the greenhouses, so Alex is happy for the interruption of a messenger.

He and Nicke have been assigned to the gardens, at least temporarily, after their meeting with the pack coordinator this morning. It’s not so bad, Alex thinks, even if it is the hottest time of the year. Things will probably get more pleasant as they start to cool down, but he likes this. Pruning, planting, harvesting, being given a series of discrete tasks that are clear and orderly and have tangible gains, it lets him build a soothing rhythm. It’s just him and Nicke out here, the other handful of wolves under the gardening head were assigned to a different field this morning, and they weave easily between chatter and a comfortable silence.

Nicke notices the messenger first, body going taut to attention between one second and the next, and Alex brushes dirt of his hands and stands at Nicke’s shoulder.

“Letter for you,” the messenger says, handing a sealed envelope to Nicke. He’s eyeing them curiously, clearly hoping to be let in on whatever is in the message, but Nicke pointedly thanks him and turns back to the potatoes. He doesn’t pull the letter back out of his pocket until the messenger is well away. Even then, he eyes it a little warily, turning it over and glaring down at the neat ‘Nicke’ scrawled across the front.

“Let’s take a break,” Alex suggests. Nicke’s eyes flick up to him, and Alex jerks his head in the direction of the storage shed. It’s cool in there, and they can have some water and sit for a few minutes.

“Okay,” Nicke says.

He opens the letter while Alex is pouring water for the both of them. His face goes from irritated, to amused, to something like affectionate, back to irritated.

“What does it say?” Alex asks, curious. Nicke flushes, shoving the letter deep into his pocket.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, then seems to realize this answer doesn’t make sense. “It’s just Sasha.”

“Okay,” Alex says. He shrugs mentally, willing to let it drop, but Nicke continues after a moment.

“The full moon is next week,” he says. Alex nods, sitting on the floor and leaning back against one of the walls. The thick concrete is cool against his shoulders and back, and he closes his eyes and rests his cheek against it. “We’ll be expected on the pack run.”

“We go there, then.”

“Yes,” Nicke says, but it sounds almost like a question. Alex opens his eyes, looking up at him. Nicke looks like he’s ready to shift and start running any minute, the lines of his body tense.

“Or don’t,” Alex says. “If it makes you sad.”

“We don’t really have a choice,” Nicke says. “I’m already worried about you getting sick away from your birth pack. At least with the others, there’s a chance that won’t happen.”

“I have my pack,” Alex says simply, tapping Nicke’s handprint on his wrist. “I’m not worried.”

Nicke frowns, and looks like he wants to argue. Alex smiles a little to himself. It’s not like Nicke can debate how small a pack can be, not when his pack has only been one other wolf for years.

All the tension bleeds out of Nicke on a sigh, and he slides down the wall and sits next to Alex.

“Maybe I’m worried about me, too,” he admits quietly, after a moment. Alex makes an inquiring noise, tapping his pinkie along Nicke’s and offering contact. Nicke turns his palm up, tugging Alex’s hand over his own. “I’m not used to being without Kuzy or Mari on the full, and I won’t have either of them this time. Mari will be nearby, at least, with the other kids, but Kuzy can’t be on pack land at all. I don’t like it.”

“Don’t want him to be without pack, either,” Alex says.

“Yes,” Nicke sighs. “It doesn’t make sense, I suppose. He’s a human.”

Alex isn’t sure if Nicke means, ‘So he doesn’t need me, anyway,’ or ‘So he can’t really be pack,’ but he squeezes Nicke’s hand. “Still hard,” he says.

Nicke sighs again, dropping his head onto Alex’s shoulder, and doesn’t answer. Alex listens to him breathe, and thinks about pack.

—-

KUZY

Sometimes, being a diviner is profoundly stressful.

Kuzy has had a pressing certainty, for three days now, that Sasha is going to get him alone, and tell him something he does not want to hear. He’s fairly sure Sasha has not made this determination himself, not yet anyway. Maybe he has, and is just more subtle than Kuzy gives him credit for.

Kuzy has taken great pains to not be caught alone. As futile as attempting to circumvent fate can be, things do sometimes change. You never know when a block the universe has placed in your path might suddenly clear, and if you stop trying to find your way around it you won’t notice. He spends a lot of time lurking in the rookery, where Sasha doesn’t like to go, slinking to the archive when Sasha is at the house and the house when Sasha is in the archive. He’s been sleeping on the couch in Dima’s study in the archive, since Sasha sleeps at the house like a normal person.

It works perfectly, until it doesn’t.

The door to the upstairs guest room swings open, startling Kuzy. He had thought he was alone in the house.

“There you are,” Sasha says, winding some red yarn around his wrist.

Kuzy scowls at him. “Location spell? Really?”

“You hide pretty well for someone I technically live with,” Sasha says, unbothered.

“Why does a plant witch need a divining spell?” Kuzy asks, partly to delay whatever the coming unpleasantness is and partly because he’s genuinely curious.

“I know a lot of spells,” Sasha says. “I’ll show you my books some time.”

“I’ll remember that,” Kuzy says. His fingers itch with desire at the thought. Sasha has an absolute _trove_ of books.

“Good,” Sasha grins at him. “Now, where should we talk?”

Kuzy grimaces at him, flopping backward onto the bed. “Here is fine.”

“It’s about Nicke, anyway,” Sasha agrees, perching lightly on the foot of the bed, like a cat. Kuzy wriggles around so he can look at him without straining his neck.

“What about Nicke.” He has a warning in his voice, and Sasha taps his ankle, face going serious.

“You’re worried, about the moon.”

“Of course I am,” Kuzy says flatly. He was right. He does not want to hear this.

“Can I help?”

Kuzy blinks at Sasha. This startles him, a little. It makes him realize he was expecting judgement, even though that isn’t Sasha’s style. It’s what Kuzy is used to; he doesn’t like people talking about Nicke. “How would you help?” he asks slowly.

Sasha looks like he is about to say one thing, and then changes his mind. “We’ll have dinner that night, the whole family. Keep watch.” Kuzy nods. It’s what most Watchers do, gathered and waiting in readiness, just in case something goes wrong at the full moon.

“That wasn’t what you were going to say, though,” Kuzy says.

Sasha grins at him. “Thought you were avoiding me telling you truths,” he teases.

Kuzy rolls his eyes. “You turn questions around worse than a fox.” This makes Sasha smirk, for some reason.

“Fine,” Sasha raises an eyebrow. “When you don’t like what you hear, don’t blame me. You say yourself, soulmates press heavy on fate. Nicke will have Alex at the moon, so he’ll be fine.”

“Might not work both ways,” Kuzy points out.

“You think it doesn’t?” Sasha says, and only a tiny curve at the side of his mouth indicates that Kuzy has stepped right into a trap. Kuzy flushes, not letting himself look away.

“That’s not what I meant,” he insists. “Just that the bond doesn’t work both ways. It will protect Alex. It might not protect Nicke.”

“You think that mate bond forms from logic?” Sasha asks, sounding more curious than judgmental. Kuzy looks away.

“I don’t know.” The room feels stifling, suddenly, the canopy trapping the air in like a funeral shroud. Kuzy gets up, opens a window. Something to do with his hands.

“It might not protect Nicke,” Sasha says, careful again. “Not yet.” Kuzy glares down at the tangled spread of the lawn below, witch-messy and full of weeds. It’s a fair statement, and a true one, but it hurts anyway.

“Nothing either of us can do about it, anyway,” Kuzy says. He doesn’t bother trying to sound careless.

Kuzy doesn’t turn from the window, and after a few minutes he hears the door open and shut again, quiet. There is the sound of Sasha banging too-loud down the stairs, and a minute later Grisha winds his way around Kuzy’s ankles.

Kuzy curls up on the big wide window-seat, the reason he picked this room for Mari. They can both fit in it; she sits on his lap and traces her finger over the intricate illustrations in the book of Russian fairy tales he reads to her sometimes. Grisha climbs on him, butting his head against Kuzy’s hands and purring when Kuzy strokes his back.

He’ll probably tattle to Sasha, but Kuzy cries into the warm softness of his fur anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost titled this fic with a line from ‘the stolen child’, bc I was like ‘am I going to write a fic that’s more “nicke adopts a changeling baby” than this one?’ The answer, tho, is probably. What can I say, his fae dad energy is absolutely off the charts.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little short, because I wanted to keep all the full moon + aftermath stuff together so the next one is quite lengthy. You get a little more background on the characters in this chapter and a little more insight into their past/present emotional stuff in the next one.

ALEX

It happens, rather inconveniently, after another nightmare. They aren’t getting much clearer, not the images anyway. There’s just a sense of anger, and of profound loneliness, and the feeling that there’s something important that he’s supposed to be doing, or remembering. Something he can’t quite grasp.

Alex wakes up, and, in the thin, tearing fabric of three in the morning, he feels Nicke dreaming.

It’s faint, still, not the emotional sense of fully established pack. He thinks, anyway. Alex isn’t sure of much, these days. It’s definitely present, though, different from the way he can pick out strong emotions by smell. Different because it’s farther, different because it’s only Nicke.

It’s faint, and it’s also nothing in particular. Nicke isn’t afraid, or angry, or happy, he’s just…there. He is feeling something like relaxed, and it makes Alex tense up all over with anxiety.

He’s been trying not to worry about the dreams, or about what they mean. He’s been trying not to think of why all his not-quite-memories seem to be bad, to point to something ugly just under the surface. He’s been trying not to wonder why no one has found him, yet, trying not to let himself think that maybe it’s because no one is looking.

It’s just, Nicke is his entire world, right now. He’s his mate and his friend and his constant companion, filling in all the missing gaps in Alex’s memory with his steady presence. Alex has the other Watchers, in theory, but they’re far away and not able to do much, and he barely knows them. It’s just him, and Nicke, and Mari. And, well, that’s the other thing. The two of them have been through so much, been hurt so many times, and the last thing Alex wants to do is to add to that burden.

He doesn’t know why he’s here, or what he did to land himself in this mess, but he knows this kind of emotional link between him and Nicke isn’t good, for a lot of reasons. If Nicke can sense how Alex is feeling, it will greatly impede Alex’s ability to continue keeping his worries from Nicke.

The thought of Nicke seeing everything, down past the layer of calm steadiness to the roil of hurt and abandonment and fear underneath, that Nicke will know how deep the break in Alex runs, makes him flinch and curl over himself protectively. There isn’t a good outcome. It might make Nicke realize the same things Alex can’t deny anymore, that he must have done something to be cursed, to be unlooked for and unmourned, might cause him to pull away, to leave Alex at the dubious mercy of the pack and without a single friend or ally.

Worse, and more likely, it will make Nicke pull back. Alex likes being there for Nicke, being a person that he can lean on. Nicke will take so little from others, but he lets Alex lean into him and be close to him, lets Alex see him when he can’t be strong anymore.

It aches in him like a rotting tooth, the slow seeping poison of it curdling in his gut, the rancid fear of losing all that. Of having Nicke nearby, but coldly distant. Of only sensing the ghost of Nicke through whatever this bond is, with Nicke himself solemn-faced and too far away to scent.

Alex has completely lost track of where he is, breathing shallowly against his knees and feeling tears seep from the corners of his eyes, clinging to the peaceful thrum of Nicke dreaming. The hand on his leg startles him so badly that he nearly shouts. His head jerks up, and he tries to marshal his expression into something approximating calm.

“Why are you sad?” Mari asks. Alex hesitates. “Did you have a bad dream?” Alex swallows, then nods. It’s partly true, and a simple enough explanation. Mari turns and walks away, and he swipes at his eyes. Hopefully she’ll go back to sleep and not remember this in the morning.

Instead, she turns on the lamp in the living room, standing on tip-toe to pull the cord, and gets one of her books from the shelf in the corner. She pushes her way onto the couch and Alex moves over so she can have more room.

“You should be sleeping,” Alex says.

Mari looks at him. “You, too,” she points out. Alex gives a small, watery chuckle at that. She opens the book, running a hand over the glossy pages. “I used to have bad dreams a lot,” she says. “Papa or Geni would always read this to me to help me fall back asleep. It’s kinda for little kids but the pictures are good.” Alex does not point out that Mari is still very much a little kid, even if the book was clearly written more with a three or four year old in mind. “You can read it if you want,” she says, a little shyly. Alex swallows around the lump in his throat.

“Which story is your favorite?” Alex asks. She flips to the middle of the book immediately, tracing a finger over an illustration of a girl in a red cloak, peering around a tree.

“I like this one,” she says. “Papa doesn’t like it, and it makes Geni laugh.”

“Want me to read it to you?” Alex asks. Mari yawns, and settles more against his side.

“Yes, please,” she says politely.

Alex reads her the book, and then she turns out the light and goes back into her room. She doesn’t put the book away, and Alex leaves it on the side table where he can see its thin spine in the moonlight.

He falls back asleep, rocked gently between the bright pages of the book and the green field of Nicke dreaming.

—-

KUZY

“I have an idea,” Sasha says. Kuzy has not known Sasha long, but even two hours would be plenty to know to be nervous at this pronouncement.

“What kind of idea?” Kuzy asks suspiciously. They’re at the archive, and Kuzy is contemplating going back to his old nocturnal work schedule. There’s no need to make it so easy for Sasha to track him down.

“To help Nicke be safe on the full moon,” Sasha says. Kuzy puts down his pen and shuts his journal. “Don’t say no right away.”

“That’s encouraging,” Kuzy grumbles. “Just tell me.”

“You should pretend to date me,” Sasha says. Kuzy gapes at him. “Oh, good. I thought you would just say no.”

“I-” Kuzy sputters. “How is that going to help anything?” He is resolutely not thinking about what ‘pretending’ to date Sasha would entail.

“I’m glad you asked,” Sasha says, beaming. “Look, Nicke is probably holding back from actually letting himself fall for Alex because he’s worried it will upset you, right? If you’re dating someone else, though…” Sasha trails off meaningfully

“That makes no sense,” Kuzy says.

“Where is the flaw in my logic?” Sasha is perched on Kuzy’s desk and kicking his feet obnoxiously, and Kuzy would shove him off if it weren’t likely to end in Sasha laughing at him.

“We don’t know he’s holding back.”

“Okay,” Sasha says. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt. Little push, right? Love in the air.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Kuzy insists. “There’s Mari, and the fact that Alex doesn’t remember anything, and possible evil witches involved, and another pack somewhere, and we’re still just trying to establish ourselves here.”

“Marriage is good for establishing,” Sasha points out.

“Now we’re married? You move fast,” Kuzy snipes back, irritated enough that he’s no longer embarrassed. Sasha just grins at him and kicks his feet some more.

“No way. Big June wedding, next year. No one wants to get married when its so hot.”

“You’re getting off the point,” Kuzy says. Sasha shrugs.

“Point is, think about it.” He hops down from the desk, sauntering over to the door. Kuzy watches him go, and then very much regrets it when Sasha turns around and winks at him before ducking out into the hall.

—-

NICKE

Nicke is maybe still brooding over Sasha’s ridiculous note. Just a little bit. He appreciates not having to talk to Sasha, Nastya, or, worst of all, Kuzy, about their plans for the full moon. He has enough on his hands; they have only four more days to go and he still has to sort things out with Mari and make sure she’ll feel comfortable and safe with the other pups. And then there’s Alex.

Alex has been quiet all day, focusing on their various tasks with a singleminded intensity that Nicke can’t quite read. Maybe he’s just stressed about the upcoming moon. Nicke sighs internally at the thought. He should probably talk to Alex about the moon.

That brings him back to Sasha’s note. Sure, mates do tend to spend the lead-up to the full moon, well, mating, but Nicke and Alex aren’t like that.

Maybe he’s reading too much into a ‘you two have fun,’ with five winky faces drawn in after.

Partly, Nicke is brooding because it’s something he hadn’t really considered. Sure, he’s objectively aware of what a mate mark means, and that Alex has one, and that Alex is (for now anyway) being treated as his mate by the pack and the Watchers, both. There’s still so much that’s uncertain about Alex, though. Nicke doesn’t want to put any weight into that relationship, not yet. Not when he’s still not even sure if he and Mari will be able to stay with this pack.

He’s barely even allowed himself to relax into the possibility that he and Alex might be friends, that Nastya and Sasha and Dima might actually stick around for a while, that any of this is even the slightest bit stable, or secure. There’s no way he’s throwing sex into that equation, and he doesn’t appreciate that Sasha has made him think about it.

“You okay?” Alex isn’t speaking particularly loudly, but it startles Nicke out of his thoughts enough that he starts.

“Fine,” he says quickly, carefully not looking at Alex. There is a protracted skeptical silence after this, and Nicke yanks up a few weeds particularly violently. When it becomes clear Alex is, in fact, going to let this drop and give him the easy way out, Nicke sighs and sits back on his heels. “I’m just worrying about the moon,” he says. “I made arrangements to walk Mari through the lunar dormitory after she’s finished with school, and I don’t know how it’s going to go.”

“Ah,” Alex says gently. “She’s brave. She’ll be okay.”

It’s true, and Nicke hates it. He wishes she didn’t have to be brave. He wishes that she had never had anything in her life so terrifying that bravery became necessary. “Yeah,” Nicke says, still not looking at Alex.

“We can have special dinner after,” Alex says. “Ice cream.” He says it in such a wheedling, parental tone that Nicke has to laugh.

“For me or for Mari,” he asks drily.

“For you,” Alex says, and the smile in his voice is so clear that Nicke looks up automatically to see it. “Much harder for Papa to be away from daughter than the other way around.”

Nicke smiles at him, a little ruefully. “That’s a good idea. I’ll go pick up the ice cream on my way home.”

“Nah,” Alex waves a hand, going back to digging up garlic. “I can do it.”

“Okay,” Nicke says. “Thank you.”

Nicke picks Mari up a little early, so they can be on time to meet the Defenders giving them a tour. Generally, the pups are so used to spending time in the lunar dormitory, once a month from a couple months old up until seven or eight when they can shift fully, that this isn’t necessary. It’s good practice for the Defenders, though. Now that the Capitals pack has it’s own Watcher family, it will start to be the target of more dispersals, with wolves moving in from other packs. Dispersal wolves are mostly young, and unmated, but not always. Wolves, either single or mated, with children might move for any number of reasons, and they all tend to follow the rhythm of fall migration set by dispersals. Mari, because she has come on a Watcher schedule and not a wolf one, is an exception, but in a few years these tours might become a regular occurrence for new residents.

Tom, Andre, and Mike are the Defenders assigned to them, which is a mixed blessing. Nicke appreciates that the pack is paying them a complement by issuing a full trio, rather than assigning one of the reserves, but he knows the reserves better. The three men are all polite, at least, and according to Dima they’d tried their best to be helpful investigating Alex’s situation.

Mari smiles and runs to hug Andre immediately, to Nicke’s surprise.

“Packa pappas kappsäck med åtta pepparkorn!” she says, leaning on him and giggling.

“Very good!” Andre replies, also in Swedish. He switches back to English to add, “You’re getting so fast at saying that!” Nicke watches this, bemused. He hasn’t taught Mari very much Swedish, just a few basic words and a lot of sweets-related ones. Her Russian is decent, better than Nicke’s, and her English is good, although her strange blended accent baffles some people. “I volunteer at the nursery a couple days a week,” Andre explains, looking up and seeing Nicke’s confusion.

“Ah,” Nicke says. He intends to ask some kind of follow up question, but Mari is looking at Tom and frowning.

“You’re the mean man who took Papa to the doctor’s,” she says. “What are you doing here?” Tom looks stricken, and Nicke stifles a laugh.

“It’s okay,” Nicke reassures Mari. “He was just showing me where to go, then. He helped me find Alex.” Mari still looks suspicious, visibly weighing this against the balance of Tom’s sins. “Remember how we talked about the big sleepover you’re going to have with your school friends? He and Andre and their friend are going to show us all the rooms so you can pick a bed and decide what you want to bring with you.”

“Okay,” Mari says. She comes back over to Nicke and reaches for his hand, still watching Tom and Mike a little warily.

Fortunately, she relaxes once they start the tour. Tom, Mike, and Andre are all pretty good with her, giving her enough space to pull back and be shy if she wants while also making jokes and talking in a way that’s easy for her to follow.

By the third room, Mari is excited again, racing Tom from one end of the room to the other and telling Mike a long story about her stuffed wolf and how he got the nickname Snarls.

“Are you going to bring him with you?” Mike asks her. Mari looks at Nicke, uncertain.

“You can if you want, sweetheart,” he says. “We’ll bring whatever you want for the night, so you can be comfortable.”

“Geni?” Mari asks, and Nicke’s heart sinks into his stomach.

“It’s mostly going to be other kids,” Nicke says. “The only adults there will be a few of your teachers, and some of the Defenders later.”

“Why?” Mari says, mouth starting to take on a petulant, stubborn tilt. Nicke had been afraid of this. She was fine, when he explained this to her the first time, but it’s a change, coming after an even bigger change, and he expected she’d get upset and confused at some point.

Nicke crouches down next to Mari. “We can talk about this more tonight, okay? For right now, let’s finish looking around so we can go home and have dinner.”

“Who dinner?”

“Me and you and Alex.”

Mari looks at him for a minute, considering. “Okay. Can we read _The Littlest Bear_ tonight?”

“Sure,” Nicke says, standing back up.

—-

KUZY

Kuzy is popular today. Dima shows up at his door just as Kuzy is about to pack up and head back to the house.

“Heading out?” Dima asks. Kuzy narrows his eyes at him suspiciously.

“Yes.” Dima opens his mouth to reply and Kuzy points at him. “If you’re just here to make conversation until you can slip in some questions about the full moon, skip it.”

“You’re incredibly self-centered, Zhenya,” Dima laughs. Kuzy waves a hand dismissively.

“I know how interesting I am,” he says, going back to shoving things in his bag.

“Besides,” Dima adds slyly, “isn’t that what Sasha was doing here earlier?”

“Sure, I’m self-centered. You keep track of who shows up at my office so you can ask prying questions about it, but you expect me to believe you don’t have prying questions about the moon?”

Dima rolls his eyes. “Have it your way; keep your little secrets.”

“No secret,” Kuzy grumbles. Dima ignores him.

“Anyway, I need your help with a spell.”

“What kind of spell?” Kuzy is curious. None of them have really tried casting together much. They haven’t needed to do anything that complicated, and they’re still learning the outlines of each other's magical abilities anyway.

Dima wiggles his hand vaguely, making a face. “Trying to shake things loose, about Alex.” Kuzy makes an inquisitive noise. “I think I’ve managed to find part of the magical signature of the spell he was caught in.”

“Gonna try to trace it?” Kuzy asks, interested. Dima gives him an unimpressed look.

“You want to fight a bad witch? Don’t you have enough to do here?”

“Fuck off,” Kuzy grumbles.

“No, not going to trace it. Not yet, anyway. I’m just going to try to cleanse part of it. It might help Alex remember, at least a little.”

“Oh.” Kuzy is a little disappointed. He didn’t exactly NOT want to fight someone. This is a sensible step, though, and there probably isn’t a potential downside. Unless. “Also might draw the witch here,” Kuzy says hopefully.

“Bloodthirsty,” Dima says. “What kind of warder do you think I am? I checked to make sure no one’s monitoring the site. There’s no fresh magic, even.”

“Fine,” Kuzy sighs. “Let’s go do your boring spell.”

Dima makes an indignant noise. “You don’t have to come,” he says. “Koschei probably more help than you.”

“He doesn’t like you, though,” Kuzy says smugly. This isn’t exactly true. Koschei doesn’t like anyone, but he tolerates Dima.

“Forget it,” Dima says, throwing up his hands. “I’ll go ask Nastya.”

“I’m already committed now,” Kuzy says, linking his arm with Dima’s and tugging him out the door. Koschei and Ivan, Dima’s familiar, follow them, flying out the rookery window and circling overhead.

“We’re going back to the house for the car, first,” Dima says. “It’s too far to walk without going through pack land.”

“Okay,” Kuzy agrees. “Think we’ll need another?”

“No,” Dima says. “I don’t want to push too hard, clear it all at once. That’s why I asked you instead of Sasha.”

Kuzy narrows his eyes at Dima, trying to decide if he’s insulted or not. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dima heaves a long-suffering sigh. “I should have just asked Nastya,” he grumbles. Kuzy pinches him, and Dima smacks him on the back of the head. “What’s going on with you and Sasha, anyway?”

“Same thing going on with you and me,” Kuzy fires back, “only less annoying questions.”

Dima looks unimpressed. “If you two end up engaged in a month, I get to say I told you so.”

Kuzy pinches him again, and instigates a race to the car.

Nastya is already at the house, and apparently knows all about Dima’s plan. “Don’t be too late,” she says. “We need to talk about the menu for Tuesday tonight.”

“We won’t,” Dima says. Kuzy is a little wary, but Nastya doesn’t say anything more about the moon. She just smiles at them, and goes back to reading.

The spellwork is mostly boring. It’s nice out, at least, just starting to cool down into the early evening. Kuzy hasn’t explored the land around here much, but Dima leads him through a pretty grove and over a hill to a wide field.

The field itself is less nice. There’s nothing wrong with it, in itself, but the sting of harsh magic still lingers over the area like smoke. Koschei complains extensively, cawing and swooping by Kuzy’s ear while Dima sets up.

They go over the lines of a sigil with string and pegs, more so they can see it and walk it precisely than for any actual ritual purpose. Kuzy and Dima take opposite edges, crossing the meadow and bobbing around each other in a strange kind of spellcasting dance. Overhead, their familiars mirror them, flying across the sky like a pair of shadows.

Kuzy hasn’t cast with someone else in a while, and the thrum of magic from him to Dima through Koschei and Ivan and back settles under his skin like a new kind of comfort. It’s grounding, even in the unpleasant haze of residual curses.

Kuzy pauses for a minute, after they’ve finished. He’s standing in the center of the sigil, string and pegs pulled up and stashed back in Dima’s bag at this point.

“What is it?” Dima asks him, zipping up the duffle and swinging it over his shoulder. Ivan hops over to Kuzy, tilting his head inquisitively. Kuzy leans down to scratch his head gently.

“Still feel something,” Kuzy says slowly. He pauses, and Dima waits. “Feels like other shoe still out there,” Kuzy adds after a minute.

“Should we stay for a while?” Dima asks, eyeing the darkening sky doubtfully. Koschei caws, and Kuzy’s concentration breaks.

“Nah, let’s head back. It’s probably nothing.” He sees threats everywhere, these days.

“Okay,” Dima says doubtfully. “You’re the diviner.”

“Does that mean I can drive?” Kuzy says.

Dima makes a noise like he’s thinking about it, then drops his duffle and takes off running for the car. Kuzy swears at him, but he grabs the bag and starts running, too.

—-

NICKE

Nicke nudges them through the rest of the tour quickly, hoping to get Mari home while she’s still in a good mood and not too tired.

She’s happy to see Alex, and even happier about the ice cream, and dinner goes by quickly with Mari chattering away about her day, pausing occasionally to accept questions from Nicke or Alex.

Nicke is sort of half-hoping she’s forgotten about his promise, but as soon as Alex has finished reading _The Littlest Bear_ (apparently he’s better at the voices for this particular book, which Nicke would be put out by except Alex’s voices are both hilarious and endearing), she brings it up again.

“We’re talking about the moon now, okay?” Mari says. Nicke sighs.

“Okay,” he says. “Do you want Alex to be here for this?”

“It’s his moon, too,” she says, looking at Alex. “Right?”

“I also transform, yes,” Alex says. “But if you just want to talk to your papa, that’s okay.”

“You can stay,” Mari says. “Packs are supposed to be together on the full moon,” she adds pointedly. Nicke tries not to roll his eyes. He can practically hear Kuzy cackling in the distance every time Mari sasses him.

“Geni isn’t a wolf,” he says, as gently as he can.

“I know that,” Mari says sharply. “I can smell him. He was always here before.”

She’s right.

They have spent probably all the full moons Mari can remember with Kuzy. First, when they got to the big house in Oregon, brought home scratched up and road-worn like nervous strays. Kuzy found them in the woods, hiking a little outside his family’s territory, while Nicke was still debating whether it was safe to approach the local wolf pack or not.

Even now, even knowing Kuzy for almost four years, he still seems like a miracle to Nicke. He pushed right into the Kuznetsov house, so blithely polite to his Great-Aunt (the current head of the house), so talented with divining, so bright and full of promise, that he could carry a sheep on his back into a house of wolves and talk them all into laying down before him.

“You stay here for a while,” he said firmly, like it was already decided. “It’s not a good time, with pack.”

“Wolves don’t stay with Watchers,” Nicke had pointed out. “Especially not bitten wolves.” He’d been intentionally blunt. Ready, then, for Kuzy to throw them out. Mari had had water, and food, and he’d rather take his chances with a strange pack than a family of witches.

Kuzy had looked right at Nicke, then, a then-unfamiliar light in his eyes. He’d lifted the small cup charm, symbol of the divining witches, from the chain around his neck. “These ones do,” he said, simply.

That first full moon, Nicke had been terrified. Kuzy’s family left them alone, mostly, but Mari was still waking up most nights screaming, or crying for hours and refusing to go to bed. Nicke spent the whole night on the floor of her room, shivering under his fur and dizzy and nauseated with the feeling of pack withdrawal.

It got better, very slowly. By the second month, Nicke let Kuzy sit with him, the warmth of another human at least helping to abate the terrible coldness. By the fifth, he trusted Kuzy enough to leave Kuzy and Mari and go for a short run. He’d barely been able to manage fifteen minutes, body still disoriented and pack-hungry, but it helped calm the buzzing under his skin and settled him more firmly into the next month.

By eight months, they had a routine, and Nicke’s body had accepted that this was pack, now. Early evenings would be the three of them, trying to scrape together something approaching what pre-pack run festivities would look like. After Mari was asleep, Nicke would drive two hours to a wilderness area well off the local pack’s territory, and run, and sleep under the stars.

When Mari turned four, and by then the three of them had moved into a much smaller house farther outside town, she and Kuzy started coming to camp with Nicke. Mari had started her uncontrolled early shifting by then, surprising herself with a paw suddenly appearing or ears sprouting out of nowhere.

This is mostly what she remembers, probably. Making s’mores, giggling at the silly constellations Kuzy would make up to amuse her, tugging on Nicke's fur and then falling asleep using him as a pillow. He hopes she doesn’t remember whatever left her abandoned at probably less than two years old. He hopes she doesn’t remember the three months Nicke spent glued to her side, terrified for a freshly bitten child in a pack he barely trusted for his own sake. He hopes she doesn’t remember the week journey on barely an hour’s notice, strapped to Nicke’s chest and carried through the mountains. He couldn’t stay, or leave her, not when he heard what they planned to send her back to.

Mari’s human parents had abdicated responsibility for her after she was bitten, an unfortunately legal maneuver that left her with the wolf who had bitten her and then subsequently abandoned her on the land of a different pack, as her guardian.

It was an accident, supposedly. It had been an accident, too, when Nicke was bitten at seven. In some ways, he was lucky. Past four, your human parents don’t get a choice. The bitten wolf goes to the closest pack, and the pup gets to see their human parents a few times a year if they’re lucky. Nicke’s still write to him. They’ve even met Mari, once.

Nicke had known what life was like, as a bitten wolf in that particular pack. How cold it was, and how lonely. He had already been a little sad for Mari, before he’d known any particulars. Bitten wolves are a sad story almost always. The bite doesn’t take after ten, usually. It was sad, but it was bearable. She had a pack, and she had Nicke, another bitten wolf, which is more than he had had as a child.

Sending her back, though, back to the wolf who not only bit her and separated her from her human parents but also abandoned her, that was not sad. It was unthinkable.

“Things are different, with a pack,” Nicke says, trying not to let the wistful sadness creep into his tone. He’s grateful that Mari is still young enough she can’t sense his emotions through pack bond.

“That’s stupid,” Mari says, and she’s keeping her claws under control but her voice has gotten growl-y and her eyes are flashing gold. “Geni is pack.”

“Our pack is different now,” Nicke says carefully. “It can’t just be the three of us anymore-”

“Why not?” Mari cuts across him, and Nicke tilts his head, flicking his eyes down.

“Let me finish,” he says calmly. Mari huffs and growls a little, but she takes a deep breath, settling back into fully human form and echoing the submissive signals back. “We live here now,” Nicke explains. “We have a lot of pack mates, and that makes things different. With the pack, you have a school to go to, one that isn’t mostly humans. We have a special wolf doctor if you get sick, and you have other wolves your age who you will grow up with. You have choices about what you want to be like when you get older. But, it also means that we don’t get to see Geni as much.”

“I don’t like this trade,” Mari says, starting to cry. “I want to go back home!”

“I know you don’t like it,” Nicke says, “and I’m sorry about that, but that’s the way things are.”

“I hate it,” Mari almost screams, jerking her blanket up over her body violently and curling up under it.

Nicke gets up off the bed, giving her space to kick out her legs, and sits down on the floor next to the bed. Alex jerks his head to the living room wordlessly, and Nicke nods at him. Alex shuts the door behind himself quietly, and Nicke waits for Mari’s sobs to stop.

“Papa?” she says quietly, voice hoarse from screaming.

“I’m right here,” Nicke says. Mari sniffles, but doesn’t come out from under the blanket.

“Are you and Alex going to leave, too?” Mari asks.

Nicke’s heart twists in his chest. He seriously considers, again, whether he’s doing the right thing. Maybe they should have stayed in Oregon, in that house perched on the very edge of Watcher territory, with no pack and a coven closing them out more and more. Maybe that would have been better than this.

“Can you look at me?” Nicke asks. There’s another minute of silence, and then Mari’s tear-stained and snotty face emerges from the blanket. Nicke grabs a tissue from the box by the bed, and she nods and leans forward to let him wipe her face. “I’m never going to leave you, Mari. Geni isn’t either. I know it’s hard that he isn’t with us all the time, but he loves you very much. He’s going to stay nearby, and be a part of your life. That won’t change.”

“Promise?” Mari’s lip is wobbling again, but she is clearly trying not to cry.

“I promise,” Nicke says. He pauses, considering. “I don’t know about Alex, yet. He might stay, but he also might need to go back to his family.”

“Why can’t his family come here?”

“Well,” Nicke says. “We just don’t know what’s going to happen. Remember how we talked about how he can’t remember things?”

“Old things,” Mari replies promptly. “He can remember new things.”

“Yes,” Nicke says. “So, he might need to go live with his family, after he remembers them. You will get to say goodbye to him, though, and know where he’s going.”

“And Geni isn’t going away?” Mari asks, anxiously.

“No, sweetheart.” Nicke puts his hand on the bed, palm up, and Mari links their pinkies together. “I know you miss the three of us spending the full moon together. How about this? Why don’t we plan a night for next week that you and I can sleep over at the Watcher house? We can have our little family pack night, still. It will just be a different night.”

“We can do that?” Mari says doubtfully. Nicke smiles at her. It’s a good idea; he probably should have thought of it earlier.

“Yeah, we can do that.”

“Okay,” Mari says. She squeezes his pinkie and then pulls away to turn on her back. “I’m going to sleep now.”

“Okay,” Nicke stands up, bending down to kiss her on the forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Mari says sleepily. Nicke is almost to the door when she adds, “Papa?”

“Yes?” he asks, turning back toward the bed.

“You’ll have Alex, right? For camping?”

“He’ll be on the pack run, yes.”

“Okay.” Mari settles herself in bed, looking satisfied. “I have Snarls, and Oliver, and teacher, and you have Alex, and then we see Geni a different night and have s’mores.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Nicke says smiling and leaning his head against the wall.

“Night,” Mari says through a yawn.

“Good night.”

—-

ALEX

Alex aches slightly, the force of Nicke’s despair and Mari’s crying tearing through him painfully.

He quietly sets up his bed in the living room, making tea in the kitchen so it will be ready for Nicke whenever he finishes talking to Mari. He’s grateful, right now, that whatever pack bond is forming that allows him to feel Nicke’s emotions is only one-sided. Earlier, with Nicke oblivious to the tangle of frustration and annoyance pouring off him, it felt like a reproof. A sign, another sign, that Alex needs Nicke more than Nicke needs him, but he’s glad for it now. He doesn’t want that despair re-echoed and stretched between them. The least he can do for Nicke and Mari is to wall off his own welling sadness, let their hurt pour into him like water.

Alex thinks this as he measures out the boiling water, returns the kettle to the stove, stares into the steam curling up like he can read something in it. He is in the kitchen, has just set the mugs on the counter, and then, suddenly, he is not in the kitchen anymore.

It is familiar, by now, the bright pale expanse of dead grass lit up by magic. He has seen it enough in dreams that being dropped in the middle of the memory, again, only disorients him for a moment.

It is a strange kind of memory. He knows it isn’t happening now partly because he can’t contextualize it, can’t figure out how he got here. It makes a dream-sense, the raw feelings of it swallowing him like an ocean and blunting the edges of its logic. Most strongly, he has a great sense that he should not be here. Not merely the current Alex, still dimly aware of his hands gripping the counter and the throb of Nicke in the other room. The Alex in the memory, displaced almost as suddenly, the insulation ripped away and all his nerves raw and exposed in the sudden painful light of it.

The faces are familiar, in a sense, from the dreams, but there is a coldness to his chest that is new. Alex turns from the screaming fury of the witch cursing him, to the other two.

He does not love anyone in this memory, and the return of that certainty shakes him a little. He can’t hear anything, sort out the particulars of the curse or why it is being cast, but he can feel the magic burning against his skin.

The light gets brighter, cold simmer of it seeping under his skin. Alex drowns as his fully awake mind is slammed into the visceral memory of this moment: pity, fear, loneliness, a certainty that he will not survive, all overlaid with the smell of rage.

Pain, and then,

Alex is back in the kitchen, with his claws cutting grooves into Nicke’s counter and his hand a centimeter from knocking the mug of tea to the floor. He breathes in, the shocked gasp of a diver resurfacing, the cessation of pain almost more destabilizing than its onset. There is still steam rising from the tea in front of him, Nicke and Mari are still in her room, the night is still quiet and dark around him, but it is a different Alex in the kitchen.

He is certain, now, that no one is looking for him. Not even the witch, who expected him to die but did not directly desire that outcome. Alex wasn’t even the primary target of the spell.

Alex wavers for a moment, unsure what to do with this knowledge. The details still feel fuzzy and obscured: where his pack was, who the others in the memory were, what happened in the back-blast of the spell that sent him so far from where he started, but this seems like something he needs to share. If he’s not in danger, if no one is coming after him, maybe it’s time to move on. To let Nicke and the Watchers settle back into their lives, for Alex to take the first stumbling steps toward living independently again.

The thought of leaving all this behind with nothing to go back to presses like a cold leaden weight in his stomach, but if it would be better for the others-

“She’s gone to sleep, now,” Nicke says from the kitchen door, and Alex carefully smooths out his face.

“Everything okay?” he asks, turning to hand Nicke the mug of tea. The scratches on the counter aren’t deep, but Alex blocks them from view just in case.

Nicke sighs. “I don’t know. I hope they will be.” He sips his tea, and smiles at Alex. “She’s glad I’ll have you for the moon, anyway. You were favorably compared to a stuffed wolf.”

Alex smiles back, a little weakly. He’ll talk to the others after the moon, maybe. He can wait a few more days before leaving.

He drinks his tea, and tells himself he’s being selfless, waiting, and feels Nicke settle into peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m super excited about chapter five because that’s really when you start to get into the meat of the story! Probably will be posted Sunday


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading and commenting! I appreciate y’all a lot!!

KUZY

Kuzy is fully aware that Nastya keeps giving him things to do, keeping him busy, so that he doesn’t have time to worry about Nicke. It doesn’t mean he isn’t a little grateful for it. He’s done all he can, now, and whatever happens on the pack run, they’ll get through it. As much as he doesn’t like to think about it, Nicke has had difficult moons before.

“Should we use the china?” Nastya asks, breaking in on his thoughts.

“Fancy,” Dima says, leaning around Kuzy and grinning.

“Might as well,” Kuzy says. “I don’t know what your parents thought we were going to use it for. It’s just been collecting dust.”

“Not my fault your cleaning is so spotty,” Nastya says.

“When did I become the maid?” Kuzy grumbles.

Nastya ignores him. “I’ll go get it down. You two sort out the napkins.”

“Think we could charm them into swans or something?” Dima asks.

“Charm?” Kuzy says, scandalized. “What kind of hosting did your family teach that you don’t even know how to fold napkins?”

Dima rolls his eyes. “Just because your family is snobby and old doesn’t mean it’s better,” he says, with great dignity. “I know how to do plenty of things.”

Kuzy can’t really argue with that, so he concentrates on the napkins. “Where’s Sasha, anyway?”

“If you don’t know, how would I?” Dima says, dancing out of the way before Kuzy can step on his toes.

“Looking for me?” Sasha says, and Dima startles and trips over his own feet. Kuzy laughs at him, and Sasha sidles over and gives Kuzy a fist bump. Dima straightens up, brushing his clothes off with great dignity. As it’s a track suit with holes in it (none of them have gotten dressed for the evening yet), this is more comic than necessary. It starts Sasha laughing, which makes Kuzy laugh more, and Dima abandons them to the napkins and goes off to find more sympathetic company.

“You hide to get out of dinner preparation?” Kuzy teases.

“I’m not doing it very well, if so,” Sasha replies, folding one of the napkins quickly and expertly before reaching for another. Kuzy gets a little distracted, watching the neat movement of his fingers and the angle of his wrists, and doesn’t realize he’s let the silence go on too long until Sasha’s hands slow. “You fall asleep?” Sasha asks, and Kuzy flushes.

“Just thinking about Nicke,” he lies. He will absolutely talk about that situation if it gets him out of this one.

“You didn’t like my plan?” Sasha goes back to folding the napkins, smiling a little.

“It wasn’t a plan,” Kuzy protests. “More of a proposal.” He doesn’t intend it as a joke, but Sasha laughs anyway. “Besides,” Kuzy grumbles. “It’s too late, now.”

“Next time.”

“Evgeny,” Nastya’s voice floats into the kitchen, “did you vacuum the living room yet?”

“Doing it now,” Kuzy calls back, making good his chance for escape while he can. He’s getting better at not getting so muddled around Sasha, but he can only take so much at once.

—-

ALEX

“And you’ll be on guard at the dormitory?” Nicke asks, glaring threateningly at Andre.

“Yes?” Andre says, eyes darting over to Mike as if he’s going to step in with a contradiction. Alex shifts Mari, who is watching her father terrorize the Defenders with amusement, to a more comfortable position on his hip.

“Good,” Nicke says decisively, and Andre relaxes slightly. “You should come and find us if anything goes wrong, anything at all. Or send a message. We’ll be with the pack for the duration of the run, and my understanding is it’s the same route as last month.”

“I’m sure everything will be fine,” Tom breaks in soothingly. He gets narrowed eyes and a skeptical expression from Nicke for his trouble.

“Papa,” Mari whines, wiggling so Alex will set her down. “Just go. Everyone else is already inside.”

Nicke sighs, radiating anxiety. Clearly, the potential embarrassment of a clingy father or missing out on the early bits of the fun do not weigh as heavily for him as making sure he’s done his best to ensure Mari’s safety.

He obligingly bends down to hug her goodbye, though, and passes her overnight bag to Mike.

“Bye, love you!” Mari calls over her shoulder, as she and Andre run ahead of Tom and Mike into the building.

“Love you, too!” Nicke says.

Alex lets him stand there for a moment, after Mari is gone and the two of them are left alone in the courtyard. It’s nearly sunset, and the pack will already be gathering, but they have a few minutes.

It’s been a nice day, for all Nicke’s persistent worry has been lurking in the back of Alex’s head through most of it. Full moon morning and afternoons are for families: no school or work and no pack activities until the evening. Alex thinks he should have felt like an intruder, spending the day with Nicke and Mari, but he didn’t. It was just…nice. Settled and peaceful and happy: from Nicke making pancakes with syrup faces for breakfast, through their midday trip to the park and pushing Mari on the swings, to the happy chaos of a game of Uno (ridiculously competitive on both Nicke and Mari’s parts).

Nicke takes a deep breath, and lets it out on a sigh. “Okay,” he says decisively, but then keeps looking at the building. Alex holds out his hand, and Nicke takes it, letting himself be led toward the center square where the pack is meeting.

Alex doesn’t reiterate that Mari will be fine, among friends and pack and guarded besides, he just lets Nicke have the moment of quiet worry before they’re dumped back into the full swirl of pack life.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Nicke says softly, just on the edge of the square with the hum of the crowd starting to reach them.

“Of course.” Alex squeezes his hand, and Nicke squeezes back. _I’m sorry it can’t be who you really want,_ Alex thinks.

“There you are!” Mia calls, spotting them. “Did you get held up dropping Mari off? The first moon is always the hardest.”

“Yeah,” Nicke says distractedly, his eyes drifting back the way they came. Mia gives Alex a soft, sympathetic smile and he smiles back, a little awkwardly. He wishes there was any anonymity to sink into, here. It feels too obvious, all the ways he doesn’t fit.

Nicke’s focus has moved back to the conversation, though, sharp, and his eyes skim over Mia’s face thoughtfully.

“You’re nervous,” Nicke asks Mia in an undertone. “Why?”

She makes a face, glancing uncomfortably at Alex, who attempts to fade into thin air. “Someone just said something stupid, that’s all,” Mia says. “About it not being safe, you being here.”

Alex forgets about disappearing, shifting protectively closer to Nicke and frowning around at the pack. Nicke doesn’t seem upset, though. Instead, he radiates a quiet sort of affection. Mia looks so worried, like this is going to hurt his feelings or make him feel isolated, but conversely it seems to settle Nicke a little.

“I can deal with a few comments,” Nicke says gently. He leans in hesitantly, pulling Mia into a hug and letting her scent his neck. It’s an intimacy barely past polite acquaintances, with most wolves, but Nicke is not most wolves. He rations physical contact with strict efficiency, and seeing Mia relax into the slowly loosening lines of his body fills Alex with a confusing mix of emotions.

Nicke should have pack, and pack is good. As small as Nicke keeps his pack, Alex’s is smaller. The clearing blurs for an instant, laid over by the cold memory of another moon.

Alex has been alone for a long time. Nicke is on the edge of belonging, sinking toward the heart of it, and Alex can see the connection between them peel away and unravel: built on nothing steady but only a shared loneliness.

“Here,” Mia is saying, brushing a few tears away from her eyes and smiling brightly, “come meet John and Gina. Their son Rudy just had his first moon.”

“Oh,” Nicke says, a little cautiously. “Okay.”

“They want to meet you,” Mia says, still holding onto Nicke’s arm and giving it a comforting squeeze. “Andre mentioned Mari to them, specifically.”

Nicke glances at Alex, who tries to smile reassuringly. He must be somewhat successful, because Nicke relaxes slightly.

Mia pulls Nicke into the gather and swell of the pack, and Alex follows.

—-

KUZY

Sometimes, Kuzy learned too late, a person can be like a precipice. Before you know it, you're tipping over.

The thing is, even if you realize it early enough, even if you glance down when your feet are still curling deep into the soil, perched on the edge, even if you stop with the vastness of infinity at a little bit of a remove, still, even if you pause to look before you leap, it's too late. You've already looked.

Maybe there are people out there, who can feel the wind at their backs and see the unutterable allure of depth before them and hear the siren-soft call, can stand to all of that and stay, or turn, or run, but Kuzy is not one of them.

He does not have the spirit for it, to see beauty and to flee.

Maybe it's reckless, and maybe it's only a different kind of divining, a deep-rooted knowledge of self. You see yourself dashed to pieces, down at the bottom, but you see, also, the perfect arch of your body going over, the weight of you suspended, the apex of wonder that only comes from risk. You see another you, who could run from that, but it's weak like the new moon, and already fading.

When they say not to make a fool of yourself over someone, they omit that it is the only reasonable response to some people. Some people, like cliffs and the moon heavy in the sky, draw worship out of you as fast and easy as falling.

That is how it was with Nicke, and that is how it is with Sasha, and Kuzy doesn't know how to make those two things balance, or to stop himself from wanting with the hunger and insistence of the ocean.

He’s curled in a chair, Nastya’s eyes too sharp for him to hide properly, and Dima and Sasha are making themselves loud. Kuzy is grateful for that, for the pull of Sasha’s gravity and the way Nastya watches and the tripping easiness of Dima happy.

He’s grateful, because in his mind he’s up in the window seat with eyes on the moon, back that first night in the house.

Nicke still wasn’t speaking to him, measuring out silence until it became untenable and then icy politeness for nearly a week after. Kuzy, never good at letting a silence rest, had poked and prodded at him for it in spite of being secretly a little grateful.

The distance wasn’t peaceful, but it was better than what came before. Kuzy had hoped, up through the flight in with Mari cranky and fretful and Nicke pressed tense and small into Kuzy’s side, that Nicke would change his mind. He hadn’t been fool enough to mention this to Nicke, but he had hesitated, and that ended up being almost as bad. They’d already loaded Mari and the suitcases into the car, Nastya at the wheel, and Kuzy had paused. There had been a silence, Nicke with a hand on the door but not opening it, and Kuzy had filled it.

“No reason you can’t stay at the house, at first.”

It was a mistake, Kuzy saw immediately. Nicke’s hand curled closed, hard, nails hidden in his palm, and his face snapped shut, bleary tiredness washed away in an instant.

“We’re staying on pack land.”

“I just meant-” Kuzy started, with no particular destination in mind. Just for a while? Just until you stop being so stubborn? Nicke doesn’t let him get there, anyway.

“I’m not your pet dog,” he hissed, “whatever they might think about me here. I’m not going to curl up at the foot of your bed indefinitely.”

“No,” Kuzy looked at him, and didn’t have any patience left to blunt his own sharpness. “Dog smart enough to ask for help. Wolf too stubborn.”

A muscle in Nicke’s jaw twitched, and his face shut down even further. He hadn’t replied, just opened the car door and climbed in first.

Nastya watched them in the mirror, like she watches Kuzy now. He wishes there were something better for her to see.

—-

SASHA

Something about Sasha makes Evgeny nervous. Sasha does not know what it is, so he does not know how to fix it. Sasha makes people feel a lot of things: admiration, frustration, disappointment, confusion. Not usually nerves. It feels like a strange sort of over-estimation, imbuing him with a sinister foresight that he doesn’t possess.

Dima: friendliness, lack of expectation, and Nastya: wary respect, a reserved but solid kindness, are easy. Sasha is used to being taken cautiously, with both optimism and pessimism, and he knows himself well enough to gauge which expectations he will live up or down to. Friendliness and reserve he can do, and has done, and does not expect a problem with.

Nerves, though.

Sasha was a practiced diviner, but not a brilliant one. Divining is too imprecise, maybe. To be truly good at it, you have to love it as it is: stubborn, withholding, finicky, lavishing you with wisdom one day and leaving you in the dust the next. (Sasha loves better the neat math and predictable structure of brewing potions, of distilling compounds down to their base elements. He loves the order and patterns of it, the way he can come to an outcome through sustained focus and effort, the thorough understanding of building and breaking with his own hands.) Still, he practiced divining enough to mimic a kind of brilliance at it, finding the carefully hidden rules and shortcuts of it, how to read just enough to set his course, to orient himself.

Evgeny is a brilliant diviner, carved and balanced perfect as an arrow, and therefore he clouds any attempt to read him. Fate may be a fickle mistress, but she cradles her children gentle as spring rain. Sasha cannot read Evgeny, not by magic or by more mundane means, and this fascinates him.

Sasha fears what he does not understand, like most sensible men, but he fears it in a way that comes close to worship. What is fear, what is ignorance, but a temptation to look, to open the lid of the box?

So, Sasha looks.

He has spent this month thinking, mostly, and watching, and dusting off some old habits. Divining may not work well on diviners, or on anything too tied with your self, but one can nibble around the edges. Sasha cannot see much, still, but he can see a slow gathering of threads: the weight of Alex anchoring Nicke in this pack, the way Evgeny and Nicke pull each other like magnets, strained now but inevitable, the bright flutter of Mari growing steadier, the uplift and insulation Dmitry brings, the balance of Nastya.

Sasha feels, a little, like a child with a hand on the scales. He does not know how to subtract the weight of his own happiness from his calculations, cannot see clearly where he is meant to fit in all of this. He has only, as a guide, what he wants.

He wants to settle, and, for perhaps the first time in his life, he sees a place to do so. That is worth some risk, he thinks.

Sasha cannot see the threads of his own life, not clearly, but he has faith in his own instinct, and that the seven of them are drifting toward something good.

—-

ALEX

It’s late, and Alex is drifting on the haze of a long run and the swell of pack contentment. He isn’t sure what wakes him, not at first, but he orients almost immediately toward Nicke, anyway.

Nicke is slinking, and his defiant frustration is a burr in the paw. He’s quiet enough and it’s late enough that no one notices. No one watches Nicke’s dark coat disappear into the trees, and no one sees Alex follow him.

Alex is careful about it, quiet and distant, but Nicke doesn’t turn around. He gets louder, emotionally, the farther away they get, but also less distinct. It doesn’t make sense, the tangle of feelings streaming off him twisting up into dense opacity.

It doesn’t make sense, and then, right as they reach the remote edge of pack land, it does.

Kuzy is sitting, cross-legged in the dark, back against a tree. Alex doesn’t even know if he can see well enough to distinguish Nicke, but he seems utterly unsurprised at the large wolf padding right up to him.

It’s only a moment, Nicke leaning into Kuzy’s space, Kuzy reaching up to wrap his arms around him, bury his face in the ruff of his fur. Alex is still backing up, turning to go, when Kuzy pulls away. He says something, too soft for Alex to hear, and then he’s walking away, picking his careful human way through the woods.

Nicke watches him go, and the shuddering heave of longing in him is so strong, it almost makes Alex stumble.

Alex creeps guiltily back to the pack, and tries to think of nothing at all.

—-

KUZY

Kuzy has never been graceful wounded. He and Nicke are alike, that way. They prefer to walk through it, going on injured until it goes numb. They, neither of them, can stop long enough to really feel it.

This hurts.

This hurts, and Kuzy doesnt want to be seen.

“Not right now,” Kuzy says, flat. He had waited until everyone was asleep, to sneak out, but that’s hardly a guarantee in a house of witches. Dima looks at him, face oddly serious.

“No one’s asking you to pick us over him,” he says.

“I know,” Kuzy snaps, but Dima isn’t finished.

“No one’s asking you to pick us over him,” he repeats. “But you need to pick us, too, Zhenya. You can’t do it like this.”

Kuzy swallows, doesn’t say anything, and Dima gets up from the table and vanishes into the darkness. Kuzy knows Dima is right. He knows this was stupid, and reckless. If he had been discovered, it could have compromised their relationship with the pack permanently, even though he was painstakingly careful not to step into pack territory.

He couldn’t stay away, though, not with the moon pressing heavy in the sky, not with the memories of all their moons together tugging at his sleeve and breathing on the back of his neck. He couldn’t make it through the night without seeing Nicke, even if only for a moment.

Kuzy feels torn, ripped in two between shame and the crushing loneliness that’s still tugging him back toward pack land, toward Nicke and Mari.

Kuzy leans back against the wall, and sinks.

—-

SASHA

Sasha has to laugh, at the way fate thumbs her nose at you. An unreliable mistress, and a cruel one. He admires her for her petulance.

After the moon, things are left a shredded mess. Evgeny and Dmitry, usually so easy together, are tense and at odds. Nastya has dropped back, always the Watcher, the wolf witch, careful and slow to act. Nicke is stubbornly pretending nothing at all is wrong, which leads Sasha to suspect he is the eye of this particular hurricane. Alex is sad, and tender, and Mari is uncertain.

It should be an interesting weekend.

The three wolves are staying at the Watcher house Friday night through Sunday morning, something arranged through the strange alchemy of EvgenyandNicke and communicated to no one in particular. Sasha, always curious and attaching very little to the certainty of knowing how other people feel, lies on his stomach in the living room and watches Nicke buzz around and try to carry things for everyone.

Nicke is chatty and bright, head bent to Evgeny’s as they plot a fire, chocolate, and singing. Nicke has bags of clothing, and stuffed animals, and Evgeny has Mari wrapped around him like a spider monkey, and Sasha kicks his feet and enjoys the show.

“Come sit by me, little Alex,” Sasha says. He is nice sometimes, and there’s nothing fun about watching Alex hover miserably in the hopes of being given a task. Alex sags against him like he’s pack-starved, and Sasha pets his hair. Grisha, who claims independence and is just as soft for wounded things as Sasha, drapes himself over Alex’s ankles and purrs loudly. “How was your moon?” Sasha asks, tugging and adjusting Alex so they’re comfortably spooning on the huge squashy couch.

“Fine,” Alex says, trying to sound as if he means it.

“Ours was miserable,” Sasha says, cheery and confiding. Alex starts a little, twisting his head to look at him. Sasha looks right back at Alex, and taps the side of his own nose. “It’s okay, no one’s listening,” he says. “We can tell secrets.”

Alex does smile, properly, then, and relaxes further against Sasha. “It really was fine,” he says. He hesitates, looking over at Nicke. Sasha waits. The longing pouring off of Alex is practically palpable. Sasha would feel sorry for him, but he thinks Nicke is a deep enough ocean for two ships to run themselves aground in, and Sasha is a pragmatist about these things. You don’t let someone drown themself in you if you don’t intend to keep them around, not if you are a Nicklas, or a Sasha. This is a horrible tangle, but that’s just people, isn’t it, and love. They’ll sort it out. “Nicke misses Kuzya,” Alex says, soft as if this is, in fact, a secret. Sasha mostly smothers his laugh against Alex’s neck, because they are being serious.

“People like to make lines,” Sasha muses. “Watchers, wolves, bitten, born, pack, not pack.”

“Those things are important,” Alex replies, still staring at Nicke like he’s the first star rising.

Sasha hums, and doesn’t agree. Those things are, mostly, silly and inconvenient. Sasha has settled to the idea of a coven, albeit an unusual one, because it seemed the best option, and because he has learned, over time, that most people who love as easily as him do not do so as deeply as he does.

It seems foolish, gathering together a handful of people and telling them to become family, but that is not the part Sasha finds difficult. What he struggles to find patience with are the divisions. Nicke cannot love Evgeny because they are wolf and Watcher, Alex cannot love Nicke just because Nicke loves Evgeny, they all insist on living in separate houses and being sad about having no one to touch them.

Sasha finds Evgeny fascinating, and so he is fascinated by him. It does not matter, the rest of it; so long as they work out a way to be happy, Sasha will be satisfied.

But Sasha is well used to his advice being met with reactions from confusion to derision, so he just pulls Alex a little closer and feels the stress slowly drain from his body.

_Don’t put his foot to sleep_ , he tells Grisha.

_He deserves it,_ Grisha says, and flicks his tail.

Sasha watches the bustle of coven ebb and flow around them, and laughs to himself.

—-

KUZY

Kuzy is struggling to deal with any of this.

It’s good, having Nicke and Mari with him, but he can’t relax into it like he usually can. He knows Dima is still upset. Maybe that isn’t the right word. Kuzy doesn’t know. No one else is angry, or even acting unusual, and that is harder to bear, somehow. A swelling wall of resentment, dinners mired in stony silence, he could take that. He is used to standing up against that. Kindness, though, and genuine hurt....that is hard.

“Geni, can we watch Sleeping Beauty?” Mari says, breaking into his thoughts. Her hand is gentle on his leg and her head is tilted inquisitively. Kuzy realizes with a sinking feeling that she’s picked up on his mood, that she’s trying to soothe him.

“Sure,” he says, forcing a smile and patting his lap. Mari smiles and clambers up, leaning back against his chest and tucking her head under his chin. Nicke puts in the DVD and then disappears back into the kitchen, probably fussing over dinner. He gets annoyed with Sleeping Beauty, with any stories about magic, and with Mari’s fascination with them, but that’s not why he leaves.

Kuzy has never had patience for the social dance around food. Not with the wolves, with their incomprehensible precedents surrounding who is served when and access restrictions from seed to plate, and certainly not with the Watchers. Nicke was always better at it, even in Kuzy’s own family. Inserting himself into the preparations without offending anyone, asserting his right to be there quietly and insistently. He’s good at it, making sure his pack has enough to eat, sensing when it’s appropriate to offer or accept food without much difficulty, slotting easily into the complicated dance of kitchens at family gatherings. This isn’t Nicke’s kitchen, not by any stretch, and yet Kuzy is certain Nicke would manage to flatter rather than offend, even if Nastya or Dima were easily offended.

Kuzy’s stomach clenches and turns over. He shifts his attention, carefully, intentionally, to the movie.

—-

NASTYA

It would be unbearably, unspeakably rude, but Nastya is sincerely considering fleeing the house anyway. Her mother would probably (definitely) choose death over leaving a house with a guest in it, but her mother’s guests exude a great deal less existential angst.

Nicklas and Dmitry are having a mostly-silent fight over who can peel potatoes most efficiently, and Sasha is throwing together a salad with a positively lackadaisical attitude while he watches them. The roast is in the oven, and Nastya has nothing else to do with Sasha taking up the entire kitchen table. She makes tea, and internally debates how formal they should go on the place settings. Does this…awkwardness change things?

“Nicke you don’t mind if we’re informal, do you?” Sasha says. Nastya isn’t entirely sure whether he’s nosing into people’s feelings via divination or if their minds simply run alike when it comes to hosting etiquette, but either way she’s grateful. At least it’s something neutral to talk about.

“Not at all,” Nicke says, as if this isn’t a question they ask and answer every time he’s at the house.

“Oh, good,” Sasha tears a few pieces of lettuce, almost absent-mindedly. It’s incredibly subtle, a slight twitch in his fingers, but Nastya recognizes a cat about to strike. Unfortunately, cats and Sasha are equally ungovernable, and there’s not a great deal she can do about either. “You’re practically family, after all.”

Dmitry accidentally cuts a potato in half.

“Sasha,” Nastya scolds, “get all that mess off the table. At this rate we won’t have time to set it before dinner is ready.”

Sasha dimples at her, and whisks the finished salad over to the counter. “Want me to set?” he asks, apparently deciding to be agreeable again. Nastya trusts this not at all.

“Go find Alex,” Nastya says, not bothering to moderate the authoritative tone. If he wants to act the child, she’ll let him. “Let him know dinner’s almost ready.”

“Right away,” Sasha says, managing to sound both subservient and saucy. Not for the first time, Nastya wishes she’d gotten a family with a little less Personality.

At this point, the potato Dmitry is peeling is approximately the size of a fingernail. “Thanks so much for your help.” Nastya takes the peeler away before he can stab either himself or Nicke with it, and relieves Nicke of his too for good measure. “Why don’t you both go wash up? I’ll finish.”

Dmitry leaves without a word, and Nastya looks after him with a slight frown. She’s worried about him, but doesn’t know how to comfort without prodding. It will be easier, once Nicke’s out of the house again. Probably.

“Are you sure you don’t need help with the table?” Nicke says, already starting in on clearing up Sasha’s mess. Nastya sighs internally.

“If you don’t mind,” she says, and Nicke gives her a weak, but genuine, smile.

It is a little less tense, at least. They dance around each other easily in the big kitchen, used enough to cooking together that things go relatively smoothly. Nicke, for now anyway, seems bent on appeasement, on pretending things are normal. On pretending there is some kind of normal, with the seven of them. It should make Nastya nervous, because she knows from experience that Nicke can change his mind quickly, but at the moment she’s just grateful for the respite. Between Evgeny and Dmitry’s not-quite-disagreement and Sasha’s desire to stir the pot, Nastya has had quite enough of everyone.

At dinner, Nicke sits himself between Evgeny and Dmitry and determinedly keeps up a spirited conversation with Mari about trolls and the logistics of living underneath a bridge. Evgeny contradicts half of what Nicke says, kicking him under the table and sneaking bites from his plate. Alex watches the brightness around Nicke’s eyes, and complements the food. Dmitry lets Nastya steer him limply through a conversation about barometric pressure and its effect on finicky spells that neither of them is particularly interested in. Sasha hops from conversation to conversation and somehow manages to listen to everyone at once, but he finishes eating quickly and leaves the table the second Nastya crosses her silverware over her plate.

_What’s that about, now_ , Nastya wonders, a little half-heartedly. She doesn’t have the spirit to coax everyone through post-dinner coffee and dessert, and takes advantage of it being an informal dinner to escape up to her room. Nicke won’t take offense, and Nastya is rather finished with juggling several fights she isn’t involved in. They can sort themselves out; she’s going to bed.

—-

NICKE

The ambush comes after Nicke has started to relax. Everyone’s gone back to their rooms, for the most part, after a tense but ultimately uneventful dinner. Mari is at least in pajamas, although when Nicke left the bedroom to go get some water for her she had talked Kuzy into reading a third book.

He’s just passing the guest bedroom on the bottom floor, considering poking his head in to say good night to Alex, when the door opens unexpectedly. Sasha doesn’t startle, just raises an eyebrow and then shuts the door carefully, blocking Nicke from view with his body.

Sasha jerks his head toward the living room, and Nicke follows him after eyeing the door thoughtfully for a moment. He can always come back later, but something in the implied command for silence irritates him a little. Nicke has never liked being told what to do.

“What is it?” Nicke asks, a little surly, once they’re in the living room and Sasha is curled up on the couch. Nicke stays standing, and Sasha looks him over sleepily.

“Masha, she likes to bake, yes?”

Nicke frowns, unsure where this is going, or if he likes the implied intimacy of _Masha_. “Sometimes,” he says slowly.

“Perfect,” Sasha says. “She can help. Nastya and I are making cookies tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” Nicke says. He pauses. “Why?”

“Why not? You don’t like cookies?” Sasha says this almost with a straight face, but his eyes crinkle up at the corners. Nicke snorts and crosses his arms. Sasha settles into the couch a little more, resting his head back on the cushions. “Give everyone a little break. I’ll watch Masha, you watch Sanka, peaceful morning for us.”

“Does us include Kuzy and Dima?”

Sasha smiles. “Hard to take shelter from a storm if you bring it with you.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Nicke says. “They’re adults. They don’t need us to meddle.”

“Exactly,” Sasha says, and he’s sharp, suddenly, alert and serious. “So stop meddling. You’re wearing out Nastya, with the way you keep throwing either her or yourself between them. Let them fight it out themselves.”

“I’m not-” Nicke starts, then cuts himself off with a growl of frustration. He can’t argue that isn’t what he’s doing, not really. “I can watch Mari,” he says instead.

“You can,” Sasha says, “but you and Alex should run.”

The temptation unfolds inside him, sudden and vast. Nicke is used to living freer, to long walks with Mari hitched to his back and then rambles through the woods with her between him and Kuzy. He’s used to being able to run, limited by distance and territory but with long stretches of time with Mari at school. He hasn’t been wandering much, here. Just pack run, which was tense and confusing in its own way. He’s usually working during the day and has Mari in the evenings, but even in his free time something stops him. He doesn’t feel at home in the territory of this pack, doesn’t feel free to roam its edges.

But, he could with Alex. No one will approach them, or stop them, or probably even notice them, not together. They’ll have all of pack territory, and Watcher land besides.

Nicke might be frequently ambivalent about being a wolf, but the wolf is not so equivocal.

Still, he hesitates. Nicke doesn’t trust his own desires, by force of habit and experience.

“I’ll ask Mari,” he says, finally. Sasha nods, looking pleased.

“Good night, Nicke,” Sasha says, standing from the couch and pausing a little distance from Nicke. Nicke hesitates again, and then steps closer. Sasha can’t scent him, not really, but the framework of politeness between Watchers and wolves runs on a different kind of logic. Nicke pulls Sasha into a hug, letting himself breathe. It’s not a particularly comfortable hug, Nicke holds his body rigidly and Sasha pulls away after a few seconds, but it settles him. He might be annoyed with Sasha’s high-handedness, here, but he knows it’s coming from a place of caring about Alex. Of caring about Nicke, even, as confusing as that is.

Nicke watches Sasha disappear downstairs, and then goes back to Mari and Kuzy.

—-

KUZY

Kuzy isn’t entirely sure who to blame for this turn of events, so he errs on the side of ‘everyone’.

Nicke and Alex have already left for their run by the time the rest of them get up and have breakfast, and Mari is chattering and excited about cookies (both the chaotic morning of decorating and the future consumption of said cookies that she has been promised). This all seems fine, until it’s discovered that they lack some essential ingredients, mostly in the sprinkles and neon frosting vein.

“Oh, Geni can go get those,” Sasha says, as he helps Mari pick through the cookie cutters. Kuzy, startled by this usage of his name and still only mostly awake, sputters out some kind of agreement.

“Don’t forget the color bottles so we can make all the colors,” Mari says, frowning thoughtfully at a star and moon cookie cutter.

“I won’t,” Kuzy promises. Even then, he doesn’t recognize the danger. It’s not until he goes to get the car keys from the hook in the hall that Nastya calls,

“Oh! Dmitry needed to go into town, too. You’ll give him a ride won’t you?”

Kuzy uses the advantage of being some distance from the kitchen to quietly but thoroughly curse witches and their meddling.

“Fine,” Kuzy calls back, heading for Dima’s room. He might still be sleeping, Kuzy didn’t see him at breakfast, and he would consider just leaving without him if he didn’t think that would make everything worse and annoy Nastya to boot.

Dima opens the door when Kuzy knocks, though, and his face rapidly drops into a poorly-fitting serious expression. Kuzy sighs.

“Not my fault,” he says, staring at the door frame. “Cookie club downstairs needs sprinkles and Nastya says you’re going into town.”

“I’ll get sprinkles,” Dima says, going to close the door. Kuzy stops it with his foot.

“It’s not just sprinkles,” he says impatiently. “Masha gave me whole list. Just come on.”

Dima glares at him for a few more seconds, and Kuzy thinks he’s going to try to slam the door again, but finally he shrugs and pushes past Kuzy.

“Let’s go, then,” he says.

Kuzy makes a few half-hearted attempts at starting conversation in the car (about what they need at the store, about what’s playing on the radio, about what it is Dima needs from the library in town), but none of them take. He never gets more than a grunt or mumbled few words in response. Kuzy doesn’t need a lot to have a conversation, but he needs more than that.

Dima keeps walking slightly ahead of him, once they’re in the store. This is both pointless, because he doesn’t know what they’re getting, and annoying, because he’s in the way. Kuzy puts up with it for approximately three aisles, and then starts bumping the cart into the back of his legs. Dima plants his feet and shoves the cart backwards, and the bar rams into Kuzy’s stomach. He wheezes a little but immediately starts pushing right back, because if Dima’s going to be an immature child about this then Kuzy sure as fuck will be too.

The aisle empties rapidly around the two grown men having a shoving match over a cart full of rainbow sprinkles and food dye, but neither of them notice. Kuzy is determined to win, although he still hasn’t quite decided what that entails, when he pushes the cart at a slightly bad angle and accidentally plows right past Dima and into a display of canned goods.

They get kicked out of the grocery store.

Dima waits in the car while Kuzy ducks into a gas station to find the next best option. This turns out to be a can of whipped cream and a coloring book to hopefully stave off Mari’s inevitable disappointment, not a terribly close second. Kuzy gets in the car and shuts the door, but doesn’t turn the key.

“How long you gonna be mad at me?” he says, after a minute of silence.

“Let’s just go by the library and go home,” Dima grumbles. Kuzy thunks his head against the back of the seat and sighs through his nose. “I can drive-” Dima starts and Kuzy snaps.

“This is really hard for me,” he says, talking too fast and in Russian because it’s easier when his brain is busy and upset at once. “I’d think you’d understand that, since you’re supposed to be my best friend.” He has more to say, stuff about how he’s just trying to hold it together for Nicke, for Mari, about how lonely he is, how tired, about how he has no clue what he’s doing with any of this, but Dima looks so shocked Kuzy loses the thread of what he’s saying. “What?” Kuzy asks, half looking over his shoulder to see if someone’s at the window.

“I’m your best friend?”

Kuzy frowns at him, confused. “Of course you are. Who else would be?”

“Nicke?” Dima says, like this should be obvious. Kuzy makes a face.

“Nicke’s,” he waves a hand vaguely, “Nicke’s Nicke. It’s different.”

“Okay,” Dima says, nodding like he understands. Kuzy frowns and smacks his shoulder and Dima makes an offended noise.

“See! That’s why you’re my best friend,” Kuzy says, a little aggressively. “You just get me.” He glares at the steering wheel, because Dima is still rubbing his shoulder dramatically and Kuzy feels like rolling his eyes would undercut the sort-of almost apology he’s making. “I’m sorry for sneaking out. I knew it could have gotten you and Nastya and Sasha into trouble with the pack and I did it anyway.” There’s a long silence, and Kuzy starts counting the little dots on the steering wheel so he has something to do.

“That’s not why I was mad,” Dima says reluctantly. Kuzy looks up at him in surprise. Dima sighs and looks out the front window. “It just feels like you don’t want to be here, sometimes.”

“I don’t stay places I don’t want to be.”

Dima rolls his eyes. “Shut up for two seconds.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Kuzy says, instinctively, but then he sighs and folds his arms, trying to adopt a posture that indicates listening.

“Nastya and Sasha and I,” Dima starts, glancing briefly at Kuzy before continuing, “we’re here, you know? This is it for us, now. You and Nicke,” he trails off mimicking Kuzy’s hand gesture from earlier in the conversation. Kuzy laughs, and Dima smiles a little.

_I can’t believe Sasha picked up on this before me_ , Kuzy thinks, half sour and half admiring. Maybe Nicke hasn’t been the only one who’s slow to relax, here. Maybe he should have realized before now, how that might feel to someone who’s supposed to be thinking of you as family.

“You’re dumber than you look if you think you can get rid of me,” Kuzy says. Dima leans into the back seat of the car, and Kuzy doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he gets a face full of whipped cream. He should definitely have gotten the tub rather than the spray can.

—-

NICKE

Running with Alex, it’s good, it’s flow, it’s wolf-blurry happy, raw and immediate, and then it’s swimming dumb and yelping with the cold in the lake, and then it’s panting and grooming each other, and then it’s Alex, suddenly too-human and naked next to him, head tilted back and showing no inclination to reach for his clothes.

Nicke’s brain gets stuck, somewhere in the middle of wolf and human where he doesn’t let it go, in the place where hunger lives. Nicke hasn’t…not for a long time, not even let himself think about it for a long time, and Alex, sprawled and sated with running, is so much so fast he feels like he’s back underwater.

He pleads cold, and gets dressed, and makes a joke about Alex being silly lying out all exposed like that, and the sleepy satisfaction of Alex looking at him, of Alex pulling on his clothes, makes Nicke want to go dunk his head in the lake again, just to clear it a little.

Sometimes he forgets that he can want: things, people, stability, home, any of it. Sometimes he forgets that it’s all he does, because abstinence and self-deprivation come so fast on its heels that the want can never quite get enough breath.

He can forget for a long time, go numb with it, but then there are moments like this, where it sweeps over him so big and so fast that he loses everything to it, sinks under it. Where he feels like a black hole: just a thing, shaped around want.

It distorts the way you grow, probably, wanting something so much. Denying yourself so much. Bends and twists you into its shape, into something that can’t stop wanting. Even when you have, it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

Nicke, still wolf at the edges, is a thing that wants Alex, and from the way Alex is looking at him, he knows it. Can smell it, probably. Nicke, still himself at the core, does not trust want, and is not in the habit of indulging it.

“Let’s head back to the house,” Nicke says, looking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *evgeny kuznetsov voice from the penalty box* HE started it!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: character having a short panic attack + briefly disassociating

NASTYA

The first ten minutes, full of the distraction of getting the initial batch of cookies into the oven, go smoothly. It’s fine: Mari is happy and covered in flour and giggling as Sasha gently helps her tie her hair back and out of the way. But then, Nastya sets a timer and suddenly there’s nothing to do for a few minutes and she can see Mari start to realize that both of her dads are gone. There aren’t even Dima and Alex, both of who she’s a bit more used to and familiar with, it’s just Nastya and Sasha and Mari.

Mari doesn’t necessarily seem upset or even concerned, there’s just a slightly increased wariness, ease replaced with tension. Nastya starts to panic a little. She’s not used to kids, not really. She likes them, would like some of her own one day, but caretaking for young witchlings wasn’t her job. She’s torn between frantically trying to remember any tips from her cousins and debating whether the fact that Mari is a wolf changes anything. She realizes the fact that she’s freezing up probably doesn’t help but she also doesn’t know what to do without a clear outline of etiquette to follow.

Sasha bumps his hip into hers and then drifts over to the counter, where Mari is tracing shapes in the flour and bits of cookie dough.

“Did you ever hear the story of the first witch?” he asks musingly, as if he’s not really paying attention. He starts drawing a sigil absentmindedly on the floury counter, one for memory.

“No,” Mari says, looking up at Sasha and frowning thoughtfully. “There was a first witch?”

“Oh yes,” Sasha says, and even though he’s caught her attention he’s gentle with it, still looking down at the counter. “It was a long time ago, back when the wolves were just starting to come out of the forests.”

“We still live in forests a lot,” Mari says sensibly, and Sasha laughs.

“A fair point,” he glances over his shoulder at Nastya. “That’s what I get for trying to be poetic. When wolves just started to live around humans, is what I mean.”

“Oh,” Mari says. “But we aren’t supposed to be around humans without witches. They even had an attached at the human school I used to go to.”

“Yes,” Sasha agrees, skating carefully around the edge of this potentially touchy subject, “but witches are born ordinary humans, you know.”

“I did know that,” Mari straightens up a little, pride evident in her voice. “You learn magic as kids, but you have to work really hard to be good at it. Geni reads big dusty books all the time, and knows a bunch of languages, and even his really old uncle would ask him for advice about magic sometimes, because he’s so smart.”

Sasha laughs. “Zhenya is an excellent witch,” he agrees.

“He told me a bunch of stuff about magic,” Mari says. She points to Sasha’s drawing. “Like those are called sigils,” (she pronounces it a bit like seagulls), “and they’re kind of like a bunch of words all written on top of each other. They have a lot more meaning than they look like. Geni likes that about them.”

Sasha agrees, and starts showing her how to draw the little memory spell, and before long the timer for the cookies goes off.

“Can I eat one?” Mari asks politely, the second the pan is on top of the stove.

“Wait for them to cool a little,” Sasha says. “Your papa will be cranky if he comes home and we’ve let you burn your tongue.”

“I’m a werewolf,” Mari points out, “I’m tougher than hot food.”

“You can have one once we get the next batch in the oven,” Sasha bargains. Mari squints at him, thoughtfully.

“Two.”

Sasha laughs, delighted. “Negotiating! I like it. One, and I’ll split a second with you.”

“It’s a deal,” Mari says solemnly, holding out a pinkie. Sasha obligingly pinkie promises her.

Nastya starts rolling out the dough onto the counter, and Sasha and Mari pick through the box of cookie cutters. She feels calmer with something to do, the ordered steps of baking easing her back into her normal equilibrium.

“You can keep telling the witch story if you want,” Mari says, prodding a cookie cutter in the shape of a pine tree.

“Okay,” Sasha says agreeably. “It was just after wolves had started to live around humans. Humans, they can be a little silly, though. They are afraid of what they don’t understand.” Mari nods solemnly, but doesn’t interrupt. “Some of them, anyway,” Sasha says with a little smile, “some of them are too stubborn to listen to fear, not when there’s something there that interests them. Most of the humans stayed away from the wolves, but Kristina was different.”

“Was she big or little?” Mari asks. She’s abandoned the cookie cutters in favor of listening to Sasha, but he’s still sorting carefully through them, choosing which to use.

“Oh, somewhere in the middle,” he says. “Old enough to go into the forest on her own. Young enough for her mother to scold her for neglecting her chores. It was her job to carry food, preserves and dried meats and occasionally some fresh baked goods, to her grandmother and great aunts twice a week. It had been a hard winter that year, though, and a long one, and there was very little left in their food stores. The wolves, the local pack, had come closer to the human village than usual. They were hungry, and even expanding the territory they hunted in was barely allowing them to survive. The wolves were hungry, and the humans were hungry, and none of us are at our best when we are hungry.” Sasha presses the cookie cutter into the dough one final time as he says this, skimming the excess from around the neat collection of shapes and reforming it into a ball. “Speaking of hunger, these are ready to go in.”

Mari carefully helps transfer the cookies to the baking sheet, peeking in through the oven window once Nastya slides them in. “They’re baking,” she says, looking at Sasha and smiling triumphantly. “I get my cookies now.”

“A promise is a promise,” Sasha says, sliding a cookie onto a paper towel and breaking a second in half. “Do you want something to drink with them?”

“Milk, please,” Mari says, very polite now that she’s gotten what she wanted.

“I’ll get it,” Nastya says, when Sasha starts to get up. He smiles at her in thanks. Nastya gets the milk, and a few cookies for herself, and sits down at the table to listen.

“Did the girl bring her grandma cookies?” Mari asks, after a few bites.

“Sometimes,” Sasha says, “but that winter it was mostly vegetable stew.” Mari makes a face at this, and Sasha’s eyes crinkle up at the corners. “Like I said, it was a long winter. Kristina was walking to her grandmother’s one day when a wolf stepped across her path. The two stopped and stared at each other, not sure what to do. They had both been warned, you see. Kristina had heard that wolves are dangerous, and take what isn’t theirs. The wolf had heard that humans are greedy, and keep more than they need.

“‘What are you doing in my forest?’ the wolf said.” Sasha makes his voice a little growly, and Mari laughs. “Kristina didn’t like that very much,” he adds. “‘This is just as much my forest as yours,’ she said. ‘I’m bringing food to my grandmother.’

“At the mention of food, the wolf’s stomach growled. He was a little embarrassed by this, but Kristina just frowned a little. She knew the wolves must be hungry, just as the humans were hungry. She also knew that wolves can be proud, and do not like to be given what they don’t think they’ve earned.

“‘I was just about to stop for lunch,’ Kristina said carefully. ‘Since we share this forest, would you like to share a meal also?’

“The wolf looked at her suspiciously. His mother had taught him not to trust humans, or their promises. He was very hungry, though, and had only a few handfuls of berries for his own lunch.

“‘I will share my meal if you will share yours,’ the wolf said finally, and the two sat down to eat.”

The kitchen timer goes off, startling Nastya slightly. She had meant to start the washing up after she finished her cookies, but gotten pulled into Sasha’s story. She isn’t entirely sure if he’s making it up as he goes along, or if this is really one of his family’s stories, but either way its interesting.

They set the second batch of cookies out to cool, and Sasha offers to wash the dishes. Mari takes them from him carefully, setting them on the counter and drying them off, and then Nastya puts them away. They need to wait for Dima and Evgeny to come back to start decorating the cookies, so there isn’t much else to do, and washing up only takes a few minutes.

“Would you like to watch a movie while we wait?” Sasha asks, curling up in his favorite chair.

“Can you finish the witch story first?” Mari asks, and Sasha smiles at her.

“If you like,” he says. Mari climbs up onto the couch, careful not to disturb Grisha, who is sleeping on one of the pillows. It’s starting to rain a little outside, not a downpour really but just enough to make the living room feel cozy. Nastya pulls out one of her knitting projects. She hasn’t had much time for them since the move. Between spellwork, negotiation with the pack, and the challenges of balancing the different needs and wants of the coven, she isn’t left with a great deal of leisure. This was always something she liked in her own family, though. Communal evenings, usually with someone reading aloud and the rest of them tucked in corners answering letters or drawing or sewing or collating spell notes. It’s a simple enough moment, but it feels stolen, somehow, and therefore precious.

“Kristina continued along the path to her grandmother’s,” Sasha says, “and that might have been the end of it. The rest of the winter might have spun by, hunger wearing down wolves and humans alike, but fate had other plans.”

“Geni talks about fate a lot,” Mari says solemnly. She’s staring down at Grisha, tentatively petting the top of his head. He seems entirely unbothered by this, either for good or for bad.

“Yes,” Sasha smiles a little. “Fate bustles all of us along, just as she pleases, but only a few of us are lucky enough to be able to see the strings.”

“Was Kristina also a diviner?” Mari asks. Sasha tilts his head thoughtfully, tapping his chin.

“Not exactly,” he says slowly. “It took a long time, for magic to develop. People had to get together and investigate it seriously, and to share that knowledge with each other. They had to build family libraries, and work out how to construct spells. But,” Sasha makes a little flourish with his hand, a flash of green thread across his palm, then red, then gold. “You can’t find something that isn’t there to begin with. Wolves came into the world somehow, and humans came into the world somehow, and magic came into the world somehow,” the threads start to gather between his hands, weaving together into an intricate knot until the ends disappear entirely, “and they all form a lovely little tangle that none of us can understand properly, however much we try.”

Mari abandons Grisha, who does look up and meow discontentedly at this, to go over and look at the knot. Sasha gives it to her, tapping the golden thread.

“There was something in Kristina that nudged her toward the deep, dark parts of the forest. Call it curiosity, maybe, the magic of wanting something and being willing to seek it out. Personally,” Sasha says, a little confidingly, “I think curiosity is just what fate feels like, when it touches you. Diviners are always curious.”

“Kristina was a good daughter, and loyal to her family, and those types never like to sit back when hardship comes knocking. When the stores started to get low, Kristina gave some of her own portions so her grandmother and great aunts wouldn’t go hungry. This helped, a little, and got them through the coldest parts of the winter, the parts when even the wolves set fires to huddle around. Kristina saw the lines around her mother’s eyes deepening, though, and the creak in her father’s shoulders worsening, and she resolved to do something about it, if she could.”

“One night, when the moon was full and bright overhead, Kristina wrapped herself in her warmest cloak and put on her thickest boots, and she went into the forest.”

“Where the wolves are?” Mari asks, looking puzzled. Sasha gives a half shrug, half nod.

“Not exactly. She snuck carefully past the cluster of wolves, sleeping on the edge of the forest after their pack run. Even with the full moon, it was hard to see. The trees grew increasingly densely overhead, as Kristina walked deeper and deeper into the woods. The only sound was the crunch of her boots sinking into the snow, the rustle of leaves in the trees, and the rasp of her breathing in the frozen air. The further in she went, the colder it got, the thicker the snow lay, and the quieter the wind grew. And then,” Sasha says, pausing just long enough for Mari to lean forward a little, “Kristina heard another sound.”

Grisha, deciding he’s been ignored on the couch for long enough and padding around to Mari’s side, meows at exactly this moment in the story. Mari shrieks in surprise, leaping and nearly toppling over as Grisha brushes against her ankles. Sasha bites down a smile while he steadies her, but Mari immediately starts laughing and bends down to pet Grisha, and Sasha laughs too.

“Did you want to be in the story?” Mari asks Grisha, who purrs and butts his head against her hand.

“He always wants to be at the center of things.” Sasha slants a grin at Nastya, leaning his head on his hand. Nastya rolls her eyes and smiles back at him.

They resettle, Mari sitting cross-legged on the ottoman in front of Sasha’s chair with Grisha sleepy-eyed in her lap. She looks expectantly at Sasha, “What was in the forest?”

“That was exactly what Kristina wondered. She readied her hunting knife, hoping it was a rabbit or a squirrel that she could catch, but instead she saw the flash of light off a pair of eyes, and then a wolf stretching up and into human form.”

“‘Oh, it’s you,’ Kristina said in surprise, for she recognized this wolf. She was on the point of unfastening her cloak to offer it to him, but he had brought his own winter clothing.”

“‘I saw you pass our camp,’ the wolf said. Kristina wasn’t sure, it was very dark, but she thought the wolf was frowning. ‘It’s dangerous this deep in the forest.’”

“‘I know,’ Kristina said. ‘That’s why I’m here.’ She started walking again, and the wolf fell into step beside her.”

“‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Don’t you have enough trouble, with the cold and the lack of food?’”

“Kristina laughed at this, because she had never been one to shy away from trouble. ‘Sometimes,’ she explained, ‘you can only find your way out of one problem by finding your way into another. We have stories about the forest. Not just the ones about the wolves, but the ones about deeper things, and older.’”

“‘Yes,’ the wolf agreed. ‘We have stories, also. We stay to the edges of the forest for a reason.’”

“‘Well,’ Kristina shrugged, ‘if whatever is in there is so powerful, maybe that’s what we need. Something that’s older than hunger, and stronger than cold.’”

“‘It sounds like a fool’s errand,’ the wolf pointed out, a little rudely.”

“‘I didn’t ask you to come,’ Kristina replied, but she was saving most of her energy for the walk, and didn’t bother to put any annoyance into it.”

“‘Hmph,’ the wolf said. Kristina took this to mean that the wolf remembered how she had shared her food, and did not intend to let her walk into danger alone.”

“The forest grew quieter and quieter around them, until even the sound of Kristina’s boots faded out of existence. Between the darkness and the silence, it started to feel as if they were burrowed deep underneath the snow, wrapped in heavy cold, with only the warmth of each other to remind them they were still alive. Kristina reached for the wolf’s hand, partly to make sure they wouldn’t be separated, and partly to make herself a little braver. Even though she had intended to walk all the way into the heart of the forest alone, she wasn’t entirely sure she could have done it. Not because of any lack of courage or determination, but because the strangeness of the forest was so disorienting. It felt like the wolf was the only thing stopping her from getting lost and wandering in circles.”

“‘Do you see that?’ the wolf whispered.”

“‘Yes,’ Kristina whispered back. In the distance, flickering but persistent, was a pinprick of orange light, like the flame of a candle.”

“Kristina and the wolf crept closer to the light, clutching each other tightly. It never really seemed to get larger or closer, but the horrible quiet stopped pressing against their ears and the numbing cold retreated into winter chill.”

“All of a sudden, they emerged into a clearing, a bare space in the center of the forest. A thick covering of branches still completely blocked the sky overhead, but they seemed to all be spreading out from one enormous tree. They walked across a dozen meters of mossy forest floor before reaching it. Up close, the tree seemed even larger, so big around Kristina and the wolf together wouldn’t be able to reach their arms around it. Around the height of Kristina’s shoulder was a hollow space, an emptiness the tree had grown around but not through. The light floated here, putting off enough warmth that their cold-numb skin started to burn and tingle.”

“The wolf turned his head away, in deference to the oldness of the light. Wolves are smart; they know their own strength, and they know when they are outmatched. Witches, though…” Sasha trails off, smiling briefly. “Kristina put out both hands, and cupped the light in her palms.”

“It disappeared easily, going warm and quiet and tucking its light underneath her fingertips, but even as the clearing was plunged into darkness, Kristina and the wolf could feel it change around them. It was not the cold, empty dark of the lonely forest, not anymore. It was the warm close dark of pack, of being tucked into the arms of a parent, of going to sleep after a long and happy day.”

“The darkness around them whispered a secret, tucked it behind the wolf’s ear and pressed it into back of Kristina’s hand. The whisper faded quickly, but Kristina and the wolf lingered for a little longer in the darkness, letting it soothe and restore them for the long journey home.”

“The trip back was strange, and a little like sleep-walking. Time moved awkwardly around them, not sure what to do with two people so steeped in magic. Kristina paused, surprised at the sudden appearance of the wolf’s camp. It seemed to her as if they had only left behind the clearing a few minutes ago.”

“The wolf looked over to her, and then to his pack. To him, also, it seemed as if the journey back had been nothing at all.”

“‘You’ll be safe now,’ he said. ‘Your cabin is just down the path.’”

“‘Yes,’ Kristina said, but she didn’t move away. The wolf hesitated for another minute, and then stepped closer. A witch cannot scent a wolf, not really, but a human living so close to the woods knows how wolves greet each other, and how they say goodbye. The wolf pulled Kristina in for a hug, and she pressed her face into his neck, touched by the gesture of trust.”

“In spite of the long walk to the heart of the forest, time seemed to have put Kristina back on her doorstep almost at the same time she departed. She slept well, and woke at her regular time the next morning, but when she went to look in the food stores there was bread she had not baked, and meat she had not hung to dry.”

“‘What is this?’ Kristina’s mother asked in surprise, looking at the breakfast table. It was not a summer feast, by any means, but for the first time in weeks there was enough food for everyone.”

“‘Oh, it’s a secret,’ Kristina said with a smile. Kristina’s mother stared, but her daughter had always been a little odd, and a practical woman does not say no to food when she is hungry.”

“The grip of winter loosened more and more, and somehow Kristina’s family always had enough food, and some to share with the neighbors besides. There were not very many reasons to wander into the forest in winter, but Kristina found her little moments to slip away, to look in on the wolf pack. They, too, seemed a little less hungry, retreating deeper into the forest and away from the humans.”

“There were whispers, among the humans. About the strangeness of a girl who does not fear wolves. About the golden thread in her blood, and how it sings bread and meat into existence. About Kristina, and her secret. But, she was always generous with her gift, and the whispers were never very loud, or very insistent.”

Sasha sits back in the chair, folding his hands over his belly. “And that’s the story of the first witch,” he concludes.

Mari frowns. “You didn’t say what the secret was,” she complains. “What was it the tree told Kristina and the wolf? How to do magic?”

“Not exactly,” Sasha hedges. “They already had the magic, woven through the trees around them and buried in the dirt of the garden, built into the walls of their houses.”

“So what was the secret?”

“The secret,” Sasha says, reaching out and tapping the red, green, and gold knot with one long finger, “is this. Red for witches. Green for wolves. Gold for magic. Nothing very impressive separately, but solid when woven together. That’s the secret; there’s no magic without wolves, and no wolves without magic. We all live in each other's shadows.”

Mari looks down at the knot again, running a finger over the green where it tucks neatly under the red, swoops back out and over the gold.

“Can I keep it?” she asks.

“Of course,” Sasha says. “It will remind you of our tasty cookie bargain.”

Mari laughs.

—-

SASHA:

There is something in Sasha that is not so nice, sometimes. Nice in the sense of delicacy, of accuracy. Nice in the sense of something soft, something that yields. Nice in the sense of being a thing people like, but do not love. Sasha fits many places imprecisely, a skill he has long cultivated, but nowhere neatly. He is used to being at odd angles.

Dinner is surprisingly peaceful, for all the turbulence of the morning. Dima and Evgeny have sorted out their issues and are back to their easy codependence. The air between Alex and Nicke is…charged, to say the least, but they fold back into the coven happily enough. Sasha will wiggle that story out of Alex later.

Nastya is at ease, and running everything, as usual. Sasha would envy the way she naturally takes to the position of elder if he weren’t so grateful it means he doesn’t have to do it.

“So the store was completely out of icing and food coloring?” she asks, tone lightly amused.

“Yep,” Evgeny says. He’s mostly keeping a straight face but the tips of his ears are turning red, and Dima is leaning into his side and giggling.

“It’s okay,” Mari says. “We can just eat all the cookies tonight so they won’t get cold without icing coats.”

“Is that how that works?” Nicke asks.

“Yep,” Mari says, in exactly the same tone, and Dima almost falls off his chair he’s laughing so hard. Nicke laughs a little, too.

“I think a box will keep them just as warm as icing, but if you finish all your veggies you can have one for dessert.”

“Really,” Mari argues, “one cookie with icing equals two cookies without icing, so I should get two.” She looks extremely proud of herself when Sasha laughs at this.

“You’re raising a little wolf witch, Nicke. Already she negotiates like one.”

Evgeny stiffens a little at this, nervous, and Sasha runs his fingertips back over the words, feeling for what poked him. Mari _is_ part witch, regardless of what God, DNA, or Nicklas Bäckström have to say about the matter, but perhaps it was rude to say so right out. Nicke is looking at Mari, though, and smiling with all the soft indulgence of parenthood, and Evgeny relaxes slowly.

Mari gets two cookies.

They move into the living room, Dima and Evgeny bickering half-heartedly over what movie to watch, and Sasha slips down to the basement as soon as he’s certain everyone is distracted enough not to notice.

It doesn’t sting him like it used to, realizing he’s said something no one wanted to hear, but it sobers him a little. It’s easy to forget, here, that belonging isn’t a guarantee, and how easy it is to shatter.

He has an order from the Capitals pack for a few of the more shelf-stable potion mixtures. Wolves, especially on the full moon, have a tendency to eat things they would be too sensible to consume in human form, and occasionally a good robust antidote is useful to have on hand. Sasha flips open one of his ingredient cabinets, only half looking at he gathers up the bottles he needs.

He’s wrist-deep in a cauldron and trying to get the exact aquamarine hue he needs when someone taps on the door of his workshop.

“Come in,” he calls absent-mindedly, still frowning down at where his hand is slowly tracing a stabilization sigil in the cauldron. A lot of witches prefer to use a wand to blend their potions, but as long as the ingredients won’t burn his skin Sasha would rather trust his own hands. He can get a better feel for the magic gathering underneath the surface.

Whoever it is, they don’t say anything, and Sasha finishes the sigil before slipping his hand out carefully and wiping off the potion. This one isn’t particularly finicky, and leaving it alone for a bit won’t hurt it, even by Sasha’s exacting standards.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Nastya says, and he can’t read her expression.

“It’s fine,” Sasha says, waving a hand. He tucks a foot up under his other leg, unable to stay still now that his concentration is broken. “Did you need something?”

“I just wanted to check on you,” Nastya says. “You disappeared, after dinner.”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Sasha tries, not sure what she’s looking for here, and her face softens into a smile.

“That’s not what I meant, Sasha,” she says gently. He must still look confused, because she leans against the door and relaxes, dropping her arms to her sides. “I appreciated your help with Mari earlier, you know.”

“Oh,” Sasha blinks. “Of course.” Sasha likes kids, because they just say what they think, and they laugh easily. He likes Mari, particularly, because she’s funny, and kind.

“You’re an important part of this pack,” Nastya says, setting the words out carefully, thoughtfully. Sasha fiddles with the hem on the bottom of his pants, where it’s starting to tear. He should sew it up, but he never remembers unless he’s doing something else.

“Thank you.” There might be a sewing kit in that box in the corner, the one with that huge book on runes that he never read but stole from his last coven, because it was Jon’s favorite, and Jon liked to kick Grisha when he thought no one was looking.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” Nastya says, and she’s still gentler than Sasha knows what to do with, so he just smiles and goes back to his cauldron.

It’s lucky, that they got her. Nastya is a shepherd who goes back for lost sheep, not one who leaves them to the wolves.

Sasha feels briefly happy, and then his mind abstracts itself back into aquamarine.

—-

KUZY:

Kuzy is happy, all through breakfast and the washing up. Mari is bouncing up and down on the couch practically shrieking with laughter as Dima teaches her a silly kid’s song. Alex and Sasha are wedged into one chair, and Nastya is knitting and occasionally chiming in with alternate rhymes, and even Nicke is relaxed for once. He’s sitting on the floor, resting his head on Kuzy’s knee and letting Kuzy play with his hair.

It’s nice, familiar and also new, and Kuzy is happy, he is, and then something in the pit of his stomach suddenly goes cold.

He gets feelings, sometimes. Like something is going to go wrong. Like something is going to change. Like someone is going to come into his life. It’s not-- divination is never exactly reliable, but feeling is even less so. It’s too sensitive, too prone to sudden change, too easily influenced.

A bad feeling, even a sudden one, it could mean nothing. It’s probably just a Sunday morning stomach: his body and mind uneasily acknowledging a change is coming, forecasting gloom in the midst of a sunny day. He is happy, and comfortable, and suddenly afraid of losing that. It’s just a feeling, probably, and will come back if it’s important. Fate always brings important things back around, giving you a second chance to review them. It jolts him out of the present, though, reminding him that this, this moment here, is temporary. It will end, and it will end soon, when Alex, Nicke, and Mari have to go back.

Kuzy is practiced in the dance of when to listen to and when to ignore his instincts, but he’s also feeling still a little unsettled from things with Dima. It throws him off, that he hadn’t seen it coming as clearly as he should have, hadn’t correctly identified the source of the upset.

Kuzy keeps his hands steady on Nicke’s head, and looks around the room, waiting for something to snag his attention, and his eyes catch on Sasha and Alex.

Sasha is looking back at him, over Alex’s shoulder. Not directly, just the quick catch of eyes and the hint of a smile, and then he’s looking at the air just over Alex’s ear. Kuzy follows the direction of his gaze, lets it guide him.

Alex is looking at Nicke, with an expression like he’s found a snug little cabin tucked away in the wilderness of the woods. It twists something up in Kuzy, echoing over his ribs like sympathy, and like the desire to help.

Unbidden, Kuzy’s eyes drift back to Sasha, who is looking at him again.

_I have an idea_ , Kuzy remembers, and, _next time_. He tucks it away for later, but closer to the surface than he did, last time.

It might have come to nothing, but then Kuzy and Nicke are packing up Mari’s stuff in the big bedroom, and they have maybe ten minutes left, and everyone else is downstairs, and. Maybe it’s that Sasha was right about Dima, after all. Maybe it’s the feeling of foreboding. Maybe it’s just some devilish instinct. Kuzy has those, little freaks of fate that push him, sudden and reckless, into feather fall.

They usually end more happily than he deserves, or expected.

In any case, he thinks, maybe this is what it will take, for Nicke to settle, and he says, “By the way, Sasha and I are dating.”

Nicke blinks up at him, attention pulled suddenly from the blanket he’s folding. “Oh,” he says, finishing up with the blanket and tucking it into the open duffle bag on the bed. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Kuzy says.

“Have you seen Mari’s wolf? I can’t find it,” Nicke says, and Kuzy’s stomach sinks. Nicke under-reacting is never a good sign, but he can’t exactly backpedal now.

Nicke is completely normal, all through the goodbyes and packing up the car and the process of dropping the three of them off at the border of wolf territory. He smiles at Kuzy after he hugs him. Nicke even hugs Nastya, scenting her a little perfunctorily but politely.

The farther they get, on the drive home, the worse Kuzy feels and the more he regrets his own rashness. What the _fuck_ was he thinking? He never lies to Nicke, and to do so about something so important, and…

Shit, what if Nicke asks Sasha about it? Sure, this was technically Sasha’s idea, but-

Kuzy cuts himself off. It was stupid, but he can fix this. He’ll go meet Nicke for lunch tomorrow, and explain everything. Nicke will be annoyed, probably more about being _managed_ than about the lie, per se, but hopefully he’ll think it’s funny. Eventually. Kuzy will even let Nicke tease him about his ridiculous crush on Sasha, and not push back.

It’ll be fine. He’ll explain things, and not have to talk to Sasha about any of it. It’ll be fine. He keeps repeating this to himself all night, and does not sleep much.

—-

NICKE:

Nicke holds it together through putting Mari to bed, somewhat settled by the routine of story time, and brushing teeth, and tucking in. He doesn’t really have a plan, beyond making an excuse about being tired and pretending to go to bed in order to have some space to think, but that gets upended as soon as they get into the living room.

“I’m-” Nicke starts, but Alex is looking at him, worried.

“What happened? You been panicking since we left the house.”

Nicke stares at him, thrown. “How can you tell?” His voice sounds strange to his own ears, thready and lost.

“Here, sit,” Alex says, moving him over to the couch and pushing him down, gently. Nicke’s head is spinning and he feels like now that he no longer has to put thought into standing, he’s completely adrift, floating out of his body.

It’s bad, and not-bad, because his body is what’s holding all the fear and tension and trying to think about what this means and all the ways it might hurt him, and it’s kind of a relief to get away from that, even for a few minutes.

He can feel the rhythm of Alex’s heart against his back, the slowness of his breathing, and it pulls him back down gently. Nicke tries to match his breaths, to actually give his lungs enough time to use the air he’s taking in, to calm down.

“Sorry,” Nicke says, eventually. “I thought- I was going to handle it.”

Alex snorts, and pulls him closer. “You don’t gotta handle everything by yourself, you know,” he says.

“I know,” Nicke lies. Alex doesn’t call him on it, just holds him, keeps breathing steady and slow. “Kuzy and Sasha are together, apparently,” he says finally.

“Oh,” Alex says. Nicke laughs, a little hysterically.

“That’s what I said.” Nicke doesn’t really know what more to say after this, and Alex doesn’t really seem to either.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks, after a few minutes of silence. Nicke opens his mouth, and then closes it. “Stupid question,” Alex says, pushing his nose against the back of Nicke’s neck, rubbing his face against Nicke’s skin in wordless comfort.

“I’m fine,” Nicke says. Alex’s arms are wrapped around his stomach, and Nicke can see the outline of his own handprint, the mate mark dark like a bruise. He feels stifled, suddenly, trapped and pinned down. Before he can make some kind of excuse, though, Alex starts to loosen his hold, shifting back against the couch so Nicke can move away. “How could you tell?” Nicke asks again, getting up off the couch entirely and turning so he can see Alex.

“Tell what?” Alex says, not quite meeting his eyes, and Nicke can sort of recognize that he’s latching onto this because it’s easier to deal with than the other thing, but he does it anyway.

“That I was-” he doesn’t want to say _panicking_ , because that feels too much like an admission, “surprised.” Alex doesn’t answer right away, and still isn’t exactly looking at him, and Nicke adds, “Alex, tell me,” voice sharp.

“There’s-” Alex licks his lips, swallows, “pack bond, for me. It started a while ago.”

“What?” Nicke asks. He heard what Alex said, and even understood it, but this is suddenly no longer easier to deal with.

“It’s mostly just strong around the moon,” Alex says, “and when you’re— big feelings.”

“I know what a pack bond is,” Nicke snaps, and Alex flinches a little, and the mate mark, his own handprint splayed possessively across Alex’s wrist, is glaring back at him in condemnation.

“I’m sorry,” Alex says.

“It’s not your fault,” Nicke says, and he still sounds like he’s only not yelling because they’re trying to be quiet, and he tries to stop sounding that way, but it doesn’t really work. “Why didn’t you tell me?” At least Alex is looking at him now, with an expression that would be defensive if it wasn’t so distant.

“I thought you’d make me leave,” Alex says bluntly. This throws Nicke enough that he sits back down, perched on the chair across from Alex.

“Of course I wouldn’t do that,” Nicke says. “You don’t have anywhere to go.” Alex snorts, and Nicke frowns. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“Didn’t you?” Alex says, and he sounds tired. “It’s not true, anyway. I can talk to the council. They can find somewhere for me here, or in another pack.”

Alex must feel the cold swoop of returning panic that sweeps through Nicke at this suggestion, because he looks a little startled.

“I don’t,” Nicke stops, takes a deep breath, tries to settle himself. This is a lot, there are a lot of things happening, and changing, and it’s hard to adjust to, but he can figure it out. He will figure it out, and it will be fine. “If you want to leave, you can,” he says, “but I don’t want you to. I like having you here.”

“Okay,” Alex says tentatively. His hand moves automatically to the mate mark, and Nicke pretends not to notice. “I need to tell you some stuff, though.”

“Yeah, yes, okay,” Nicke says. He’s not sure where this is going, which is kind of true of this entire evening.

“I know where I can find my old pack,” Alex says. Nicke isn’t entirely sure what his face is doing, in response to this, but it’s probably for the best that Alex isn’t looking at him. It’s been so long, he realizes he just sort of settled into assuming things would stay like this. That Alex wouldn’t remember, that they wouldn’t ever get a clear idea of what happened to him, that they would just move on, together. Stupid; he knows better than to let himself relax. “I wasn’t sure at first,” Alex continues. “Started, just dreams. I wasn’t even sure they were real. Then,” Alex pauses, “I was, but nothing helpful in them.”

He stops for a long time after this, staring down at the floor, and looking miserable. Nicke tentatively reaches out a hand, pausing a few inches away from touching. Alex meets his eyes, finally, and he looks so lost and sad that Nicke drifts closer, thinking of what Alex does when Nicke is upset, how Alex and Sasha wrap around each other like vines, how Alex must find nearness comforting. Nicke (carefully, intentionally) sits on the couch next to Alex and leans into his side. Alex heaves a sigh, tension leaking out of his body, and Nicke puts an encouraging hand on his knee, happy he read this correctly.

“Keep going,” he says. “It’s okay, no matter what it is. We’ll sort it out.”

“No one’s coming after me,” Alex says, quiet but steady. “It wasn’t- the curse wasn’t about me, really. Just bad luck, wrong place. Pack had a lot of problems. I went there, for dispersal, because I wanted a change.”

“Where did you grow up?” Nicke asks, curious. Alex has been such a mystery, in so many ways, and he knows this is serious but he’s also fascinated.

“Big pack,” Alex laughs a little. “Old, kinda boring. Mama is on council, but not so important they expect me to marry for pack.”

“You didn’t want to stay?” Wolves usually don’t, dispersal is more the norm, but council members’ children also don’t generally throw away a promising position and decent pack rank for nothing.

“Nah,” Alex fiddles with a rip in the knee of his jeans. “Wanted to make a difference somewhere. Maybe silly.”

“No, it’s not silly,” Nicke says firmly.

The corner of Alex’s mouth turns up. “Whatever you say, Nicke. I don’t argue with you; you always right.”

“Shut up,” Nicke laughs. “I’m trying to be supportive.” Alex’s smile goes a little soft.

“Anyway, hard to make a difference by yourself, you know? Lots of fights, in pack. Lots of trouble with witches, no Watcher family nearby,” Alex trails off. “You know how it goes,” he adds, turning the end up slightly like a question.

“I do,” Nicke says, thinking of Mari. “I grew up in a lot of different packs, and they don’t take in a bitten with a patchy history if they don’t have stability issues.” He doesn’t mean this in a self-pitying way, and is relieved that Alex doesn’t seem to interpret it that way, either. He just squeezes Nicke’s hand, and keeps going.

“Anyway, I’m just,” he sighs, “not being very brave, maybe. I don’t feel like going back, don’t really have any reason to, and I don’t want to go back to my birth pack, either. Not now.”

“But,” Nicke starts slowly, “you like it here?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, looking down at their still-joined hands a little shyly. “I like it here, with you, and Mari, and…” he trails off, and Nicke sighs.

“I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me any of this. It must have been a lot to deal with, memories coming back, and the pack bond thing.” Nicke doesn’t mention the mark, but he means that, too, must be a lot to deal with. “I’m not going to stop being your friend, just because things are complicated, but I get why you didn’t talk to me. I’ve been a little self-absorbed in all this, I guess.”

Alex bumps his chin against Nicke’s shoulder, gentle. “Just didn’t want to make things harder. Stuff is complicated with you and Kuzma, I know that. I wanna be here for you. Help.”

“You do,” Nicke insists. “You were great at pack day, and with the full moon, and Mari likes having you here.” _I like having you here, too_ , Nicke thinks, but can’t quite bring himself to say. There’s a softness to Alex, one that Nicke loves and wants to protect, but does not quite feel he deserves. “Anyway it’s not-” Nicke stops, trying to figure out how to phrase this the way he wants. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t build your own relationships with the coven,” he lands on finally. “And the pack, here. It doesn’t have to be about me.” Nicke winces. “Not that it is, that sounds self-centered, just. You don’t need to do things differently just because my situation is complicated,” he says, using the same word Alex did. It’s a good one. Useful.

“I think,” Alex says, slowly but deliberately, “maybe we both can be a little more honest, you know?”

“That’s fair,” Nicke says, laughing a little. He sighs, thinking of Kuzy. “It’s a lot, but we’re making it work, I think, the seven of us.”

“Pack,” Alex agrees.

“We’re getting there,” Nicke says, resting his head on Alex’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> know-it-all 14 year old fairy tale heroine evgeny kuznetsov is, as always, a mood
> 
> if I could figure out how to embed instagram pictures that recent one of Sasha w his kids would have been the chapter summary. if you want to cry real human tears just look at any pictures / video of him interacting with children!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re interested, I wrote a worldbuilding/nonlinear narrative writing primer [on my Dreamwidth](https://suleskerry.dreamwidth.org/279.html)!

KUZY

 _lunch today?_ , Kuzy texts Nicke, at the earliest possible moment he can reasonably send a text without making it completely obvious he was up half the night waiting for said moment to arrive.

He stares at his phone. Nicke probably won’t text back right away, he might be getting Mari ready for school, or-

 _Can’t today,_ Nicke texts back.

“Fuck,” Kuzy says.

He generally has his phone near him during the day, just in case. It started as a habit for both him and Nicke once Mari began attending school, out of their immediate supervision. No one really texts him except Nicke, so generally the phone is not terribly distracting.

He can’t stop checking it, today, even though he knows the volume is on and it’s unlikely that Nicke will send him anything further. Kuzy has a translation spread out in front of him but he has gotten maybe two lines done all morning. He checks his phone again. 11.40. Kuzy sighs, resolutely turning back to his translation and resolving to at least attempt to concentrate for a bit before lunch, but his phone chimes less than a minute later. He grabs it, nearly both dropping it and upending the huge reference book at his elbow, but manages to steady everything with reasonable success.

 _Actually I can meet at that cafe near you, if you’re not in the middle of something_ , Nicke says.

 _on the way_ , Kuzy types quickly, sending the text before checking he has his wallet and practically running out the door. He needs to explain all this to Nicke as quickly as possible, ideally before anyone else finds out about it. The last thing he needs is for Sasha to hear about this. Kuzy can’t even imagine the level of mockery he’ll have to endure if that happens, and that’s the lucky outcome. Much, much worse, not likely but still possible, is Sasha taking this to Mean Something and insisting on gently and politely letting Kuzy down.

 _Oh, it doesn’t mean anything? You just chose him at random?_ Kuzy’s internalized Nicke says sarcastically.

Kuzy has prepared an argument for this imaginary Nicke, and speedily informs him that this was all Sasha’s idea anyway, and was just convenient, and absolutely does not mean anything, and also was a joke. Imaginary Nicke just raises a single eyebrow, and Kuzy flips him off. A passing woman glares at him, and Kuzy figures that is probably what he deserves for having arguments with himself instead of saving his energy for whatever response actual live Nicke is going to have.

Kuzy monopolizes a table by the window (for spotting purposes/convenient distraction fodder should things go south) and orders Nicke’s favorite tea (for softening up, should things be already trending in a southerly direction when Nicke arrives). He’d order for them as well, but Nicke’s touchy about that. It’s a little bit of a werewolf thing, because providing someone with food is offering them protection, and affection, and Nicke is suspicious of either, even with Kuzy. It’s a little bit of an alpha thing, that he can give those things to Kuzy, and have them accepted on those terms, in a way other wolves won’t allow, since he’s bitten. It’s a little bit of a witch thing, because providing someone with food is showing that you can, that you’re in charge of them. It’s a little bit of a Nicke thing, because he hates being predictable, or being known. Tea will have to do.

Nicke waves to Kuzy when he comes in, and goes up to the counter to order food for both of them.

“Thanks for meeting me,” he says, and Kuzy tries to assess him quickly without looking like that’s what he’s doing. Nicke looks a little tired, and serious, but not upset. Or, more accurately, not the oddly blank look he gets when he’s upset, that he had last night.

“Yeah,” Kuzy says, figuring he might as well just take the plunge. “I wanted to talk to you about last night.” He pauses briefly for an acknowledgement, planning out what he’s going to say next. Passing it off as a joke is probably a stupid idea, so his current strategy is just complete and embarrassing honesty.

Nicke doesn’t give him the expected nod, though. Instead, and completely unexpectedly, he smiles. “I’m glad you told me,” he says.

“Oh?” Kuzy asks, thrown.

“Yeah.” Nicke takes a deep breath, visibly settling himself. “I talked to Alex, last night.” _There goes the hope no one else knows_ , Kuzy thinks gloomily. “I think I’ve just been waiting for this all to fall apart, really,” Nicke says. “It’s- I’m not sorry for that, exactly, because I need to be careful for Mari, but…” Nicke trails off, looking out the window. At least that element is going according to plan. “It’s not really fair, to you or Alex, or to anyone.”

“Kolya,” Kuzy says, voice curling soft and fond around the letters. Nicke smiles a little, and lets Kuzy tug his hand across the table.

“It’s just been us for so long, you know?” Nicke says. “Just the three of us. It’s hard, that changing.”

“Yeah,” Kuzy agrees.

“But good, I think,” Nicke adds, a little hesitantly. Kuzy squeezes his hand. “Yeah,” Nicke sounds more sure this time. He looks at Kuzy, smiles again, brilliant and warm, and Kuzy feels the familiar twist and flip of his heart trying to beat out of his ribs. It can never quite hold onto Nicke, when he’s like this. It’s too much, too big, overflowing his chest and wrapping itself around him like a blanket. “I’m glad you’re putting down roots,” Nicke muses.

“Make you feel like you can, too?” Kuzy asks tentatively. He thinks he knows where Nicke is going with this, or that he can nudge him in that direction, anyway.

“Maybe,” Nicke says. He looks a little embarrassed, never very eager to talk about how he’s feeling or what he needs, but he pushes through it. “Alex is going to be here for a while, I think.”

“That’s good,” Kuzy says, encouraging.

“His memory came back,” Nicke adds quietly. “A while ago, apparently.”

“Oh,” Kuzy says. Nicke smiles, so Kuzy assumes whatever conversation Nicke and Alex had about that must have gone well. “We need to tell the pack anything?”

“I’m not entirely sure yet,” Nicke says. “He wrote to his parents, letting them know where he is, but I don’t think he’s decided what to do about his former pack. I think,” Nicke pauses, considering his words, “he’s safe here, and happy, for now. I think we should give him a little time to decide beyond that.”

And, well, that’s Nicke, isn’t it? Always giving people he loves a clear exit route to leave him.

Kuzy is extremely curious what else Alex said, and how long his memory has been back, and how the mate mark fits into all of this, but he doesn’t ask. Pushing Nicke never leads to anything productive, and nosing into Nicke’s life magically is a one way ticket to being shut out entirely for an indefinite period. He’ll know what he knows when Nicke decides to tell him, or Alex.

“Good, he’s staying,” Kuzy says. “Masha likes him.”

“Yes,” Nicke agrees, and then smiles in a way Kuzy can only describe as ‘mischievous.’ “She likes Sasha, also.”

“She likes cookies,” Kuzy points out. “If you give her cookies, she probably like you, too.”

Nicke laughs. “What, I still can’t compliment him now that he’s your boyfriend? I just get sarcasm in response.” Kuzy rolls his eyes. “He told her a pretty interesting story, you know,” Nicke adds. “She told me all about it.”

Kuzy narrows his eyes, trying to parse Nicke’s expression. He’s definitely teasing about something, but Kuzy can’t tell what. “What story?”

“Oh, ask him about it,” Nicke says airily.

“Whatever,” Kuzy grumbles. He decides to shift the subject before what he and Sasha have talked about or not talked about comes under further review. Who knows what Sasha has said to Alex that Alex has then passed along to Nicke? Sasha and Alex are always whispering together. “Probably good for her, spending time with more witches.” It’s a bit of a gamble, how Nicke will take this, but he’s in a good mood, and it’s something Kuzy has wanted to say. Nicke raises an eyebrow but hums in acknowledgement, and Kuzy moves on. That’s enough of a push for today. “You meet any other nice wolves? Or they all still assholes?”

Nicke laughs, and starts telling him about pack run, and Kuzy has an almost entirely enjoyable couple hours.

This will be fine, probably, but he does need to get to Sasha sooner rather than later. He doesn’t think Alex has a phone. A lot of wolves don’t, since almost all social life happens within packs, To be honest, Kuzy isn’t entirely sure if Sasha has a phone, either. Most witches do, but Sasha isn’t most of anything.

Kuzy tracks Sasha down at the archive as soon as he gets back. He’s relieved to see a circle of empty vials scattered around Sasha’s stool and the three bubbling cauldrons in front of him. He certainly doesn’t look like he’s moved since this morning.

“Did you eat lunch?” Kuzy asks, picking his way carefully through the detritus toward Sasha.

“Yes,” Sasha says absently, but he’s intently leveling out a teaspoon of something green and crumbly and Kuzy is fairly certain he didn’t actually hear the question. Kuzy props an elbow up on a clear bit of table and waits. After another minute or so Sasha finally looks over at him. “Did you need something?” he asks, still sounding a little abstracted.

“I can come back,” Kuzy says. “Just seeing if you ate.”

“Oh,” Sasha frowns, patting his stomach. “What time is it?”

“Almost three.”

“No, then,” Sasha says. “Not since eight.”

Kuzy clicks his tongue at this. “Grisha not come bug you?”

“Oh, he hates the smell of ginseng. And anyway, he’s still dealing with our mouse problem.”

“Mouse problem?”

“There probably won’t be after tomorrow,” Sasha’s eyes are drifting back to his cauldrons.

“Hey,” Kuzy says, “come on. You gotta eat.”

Sasha makes a face at him, but gives the cauldrons a final stir and hops to his feet.

They wander down into the little kitchenette, and Sasha rummages in the fridge for something to eat. “You hungry?”

“No, I ate with Nicke,” Kuzy replies. Sasha leans out of the fridge slightly to give him a look.

“Just come to bother me for fun?”

“I’ll let you starve next time.”

Sasha laughs, and goes back to foraging.

Kuzy waits until Sasha is eating, checks the perimeter for Dima or Nastya, moves a chair so he can look down the hall and see anyone moving within earshot, and ignores Sasha’s inquisitive/judgmental look.

“Lots of fuss,” Sasha comments blandly. “Are we going to tell secrets?”

Kuzy sighs. “Not exactly.”

Sasha puts down his fork. “Everything okay? You in trouble, Zhenya?” Kuzy resolutely does not react to the nickname.

“I told Nicke we were dating,” he says. Sasha stares at him for a few seconds, and then tilts his head back and absolutely loses it laughing. “You’re so loud,” Kuzy hisses, glancing down the hall to make sure no one is coming to investigate. Sasha ignores the reprimand, but he does eventually taper off into giggles.

“I thought it was too late.”

For a heart-stopping second, Kuzy completely misinterprets how he means this. ‘Too late for us to be together’? But, no, that doesn’t make sense, not when Sasha’s still half-laughing at him, and then Kuzy remembers the last time they talked about this.

“First moon went fine,” Kuzy agrees, “but I think you were right.”

Sasha tilts his head, evaluating Kuzy more thoughtfully. It’s extremely unnerving. “I’m right about a lot of things,” he says, “but I’m wrong about a lot of things, too.”

Kuzy snorts. “Yeah welcome to the club,” he mutters. Sasha smiles. “You were right about Nicke needing a little push, to settle.”

“Was I?” Sasha says, sounding genuinely curious. “I never know how people are going to react to things.”

“Just tell them what to do anyway?” Kuzy quips.

Sasha laughs, but it’s a little less loose, somehow. “You’re the one dumb enough to listen to me,” he says. “Your fault if you take bad advice.”

“It wasn’t bad advice,” Kuzy says, looking right at Sasha. “You noticed what Nicke was upset about, or waiting for, or, I don’t know.” Kuzy makes a frustrated gesture. “Dima, too.”

“Dima?”

“Point is,” Kuzy says, “maybe you were right about the fake dating thing, too.”

“Okay.” Sasha shrugs, but he looks pleased. “We can do that.”

—-

NICKE

Nicke pulls Mia aside the next day, while they’re waiting for the kids to be dismissed from the nursery.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, and Nicke forces a smile and nods. He hopes it isn’t too obvious that this, initiating socially, is both foreign and completely terrifying to him.

“I just wanted to talk to you about something,” he says. This does not make Mia look any less nervous. “That family game night you mentioned, a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh,” Mia relaxes and smiles at him. “Yeah! We usually have it two weeks out from the moon. It’s a good way to break up the month, and for the kids to get some energy out. Were you thinking of coming?”

“If that’s okay,” Nicke says tentatively. Mia looks thrilled, which is nice of her. It will probably be at least slightly awkward having Nicke there, and he appreciates that she doesn’t make him feel that.

“We’d love to have you,” she says firmly. “All three of you.”

“Thanks,” Nicke says. He returns her smile, relieved now that the difficult part of the conversation is over. He didn’t exactly expect her to say no; she’d been willing to invite him and Mari last month, when they were newer and less known around the pack. If anything, the addition of Alex has only improved Nicke’s social standing. As much as he doesn’t like giving weight to people’s assumptions, it does make things easier. He’s still bitten, but he looks more rooted and trustworthy with a mate than without one.

He thinks about it, walking home with Mari. She’s chattering happily about today’s lesson, and a new friend, and Nicke’s glad at how well she’s settling in here. Mari didn’t really struggle socially going to a school that was mostly humans. She got along pretty well with everyone. She’s a smart, quiet kid, and independent without being pushy, and that led to easy, conflict-free interaction with most of her classmates. She hadn’t really made any close friends, though, and that had worried Nicke. He wants her to have community, to feel secure enough to get attached to people.

“You’re not listening, Papa,” Mari scolds, and Nicke smiles down at her ruefully.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I was somewhere else. What did you say?”

Mari makes a distinctly Kuzy-ish noise of displeasure, but repeats her question. “Can we watch Robin Hood after dinner? I’ve been wanting to for forever.”

“Forever?” Nicke says skeptically. She probably means since the weekend. Kuzy told her his favorite fairy tale again, the one about a tricky fox, and gave her a new book about foxes, so it’s been fox central since then.

“Forever,” Mari confirms.

“Do you have homework?”

“I already said that,” Mari says.

“Is that a yes?” Nicke asks, amused.

“It’s not a lot! I’ll do it fast!”

Nicke laughs, and unlocks the door. “I’ll help you with your homework, and then we can see about the movie, okay? It depends how late it gets.”

“Okay,” Mari says, bouncing on her toes and running past him as soon as he gets the door open. “Alex we’re doing fast homework and then movie,” she says, making a run for the couch and jumping up onto Alex, who catches her easily.

“Ooh, what movie?” Alex asks.

“Maybe movie,” Nicke insists. Alex grins at him.

“Papa being no fun again?”

“He’s always like that,” Mari says solemnly. Nicke rolls his eyes.

“I’m going to start dinner,” he says, dutifully ignoring Mari and Alex whispering conspiracy behind him. Alex teases, but half the time these days he’s the one helping Mari with homework while Nicke gets dinner ready. It’s nice, having another pair of hands, although it does make Nicke feel a little wistful.

He’s happy with the way things are going, here, happier than he’s been in a long time, but being away from Kuzy is still hard.

 _That part isn’t forever,_ Nicke reminds himself. _Just keep working on settling things down, here, and getting Mari acclimated. The rest will come._

He hopes so, anyway.

—-

ALEX

“Nicke let you out to play?” Sasha says, right away, and Alex gives him a friendly shove.

“You wanna run or talk?”

“I can do both. Don’t underestimate me,” Sasha says.

“I forget you’re not a wolf.”

Sasha grins, all teeth, and takes off running.

“So, talk,” Sasha says, some time later. They’re flopped out by the river, and Sasha is fucking around on his back, kicking his leg up and circling it around, flexing the muscles. Alex shakes his hair out— Sasha might be too vain to dunk his head in the river but Alex isn’t— and Sasha squawks at the splatter of water and throws his sweaty shirt at Alex. “Fucking menace,” Sasha mutters. “Give me my shirt back, I need a pillow.”

“Why’d you throw it then,” Alex complains, but he gives the shirt back. He sits down next to Sasha on the bank, and does not give into the temptation to throw Sasha’s shoes into the river. His prudence is rewarded by Sasha poking him with a toe, so he grabs his ankle.

“Come on, tell me what you’re all twisted up about,” Sasha says, not bothering to pull his foot away.

“I’m not,” Alex protests. “Maybe I just want to run.”

Sasha snorts. “You have a whole territory to run in.”

“It’s pretty out here, though,” Alex says. Sasha grabs Alex’s discarded shirt and tosses it into the river. Alex possibly deserved that. “I don’t know,” he grumbles, looking down at Sasha’s ankle, which is just as confrontational as the rest of him but has the benefit of lacking speech.

“You have about five more minutes before I start to be cold,” Sasha points out. Right, human.

“Just thought you might need someone to talk to,” Alex says, which is kind of mostly true. Sasha looks at him in his unnervingly direct way, and Alex looks back.

They haven’t done this too frequently. They’re both busy, Alex with Nicke and Mari and the whole curse situation, Sasha with the witches and, apparently, his new boyfriend. But, it helps Alex to feel like he has someone to talk to other than Nicke, and about Nicke, and Sasha is good at secrets and rough sympathy, so they do this sometimes. Run. Talk.

Sasha looks away, but stays mostly curled up against Alex’s side. “I will if you will,” he says. Alex sighs, pushing his fingers through Sasha’s sweaty hair. Sasha makes a pleased cat noise.

“I talked to Nicke the other day,” Alex says finally. “I told him, that my memory came back.”

“Been sitting on that one a while, haven’t you?” Sasha says, but he doesn’t sound annoyed.

“You knew?”

Sasha snorts. “I know everything, little Sanka.” Alex pinches his side, and he giggles.

“I don’t know,” Alex continues, musing. “I don’t think he thinks the mate mark is serious.”

“No,” Sasha agrees, which stings a little, even though it’s just honesty. Alex heaves a sigh.

“I think he’s starting to think of us as pack, at least.”

Sasha turns to look at him, digging his chin sharp into Alex’s arm. “Bond go both ways yet?”

“Not yet, I don’t think,” Alex says. “He was surprised, when I told him about it.” He doesn’t ask how Sasha knows about the bond, or if this knowledge is something the other witches share. Not yet.

“I’ll keep an eye on it,” Sasha says, and Alex takes the opening, slight as it is.

“Kuzy, too?”

Sasha raises an eyebrow. “How would I know what he does with his magic?” Alex tries to communicate _Don’t try and pull that shit after you made me talk about my feelings_ , with his eyebrows. “Fine. Stop. You look like you’re going to hurt yourself,” Sasha complains. He pulls his shirt back on and clambers into Alex’s lap. This is probably mostly a diversionary tactic, but it is pretty cold out, for humans anyway, and it’s not like Alex is going to turn down a cuddle. He is a little cranky Sasha threw his shirt in the river, though.

“I’m not carrying you back.”

“Useless,” Sasha says, reaching back to pat his cheek without looking, and nearly smacking him in the face. Alex always says this, and he always carries Sasha back, anyway. Price of going running with a human.

“You two talk about things?” Alex prods, after Sasha lapses into quiet.

“Not really,” Sasha says. He’s silent, again, but Alex leaves him be. Sasha has too many limbs and he reeks of sweat, but he’s also warm and comforting to be wrapped around. “I don’t think he’s serious about it,” Sasha says, finally. “I think it’s just being young, and not sure how to make a coven.”

“Kuzya’s not that young,” Alex points out. “And he doesn’t seem like he doesn’t know what he wants.”

Sasha hums in acknowledgement, and thinks some more. “I don’t know if this is going to stick.”

“You and Kuzy?”

“Just me.”

Alex’s arms tighten around Sasha automatically, and Sasha doesn’t complain. Alex thinks about the story Sasha told Mari, about witches and wolves and family. He thinks about his dreams, about cold bright loneliness, and about burrowing into the warm dark of pack. The dreams about his life before have mostly stopped. Half the time now he dreams of being a wolf, running with Nicke, or Sasha and the sound of the river.

“I’m glad you’re here, anyway,” Alex says, thinking about Mari, lit up with a story of a witch and a wolf who love each other, and about how Nicke has stopped wincing every time she mentions magic.

“You’re a sentimental fool,” Sasha says, and presses a kiss to his shoulder.

—

NICKE

Nicke tries to look like he hasn’t been anxiously waiting for Alex to come back, picking up the book he’s been not-reading for the last hour or so when he hears the door open. He’s reasonably successful, which is good for his pride, but also means Alex goes straight into the kitchen without stopping.

“Good run?” Nicke calls, abandoning the book and wandering into the kitchen after him. Alex is gulping down a full glass of water and just shoots him a thumbs up. He’s also shirtless, and smells like he’s been rolling around with Sasha. Nicke observes all this, and then carefully and meticulously shuts down any kind of feelings or conclusions.

“Yeah,” Alex says, refilling his glass and sipping it more slowly this time. “Nice today. Not too cold.”

“Apparently,” Nicke can’t resist saying, and Alex laughs and flushes a little.

“Sasha throw my shirt in the river,” he says, meandering out of the kitchen and over to the drawer of his clothes in Nicke’s room. Nicke does not really consider this an adequate explanation, but he also doesn’t want to make it any more obvious how curious he is about what the two of them talked about. He doesn’t say anything. “How long do we have before we need to go get Mari?” Alex asks, opening the drawer and fishing out a clean shirt and pants.

“Still a couple hours,” Nicke says. Mari is having a play date with a friend, which is unusual but hopefully good. They’ve had Oliver over a few times, and Mari has gone over there once, but this friend, Jayne, is new. Nicke isn’t entirely sure what to do with himself without Mari or work, but he also hadn’t wanted to admit that to Alex. It seems almost ridiculously needy, to ask Alex to give up some of the limited time he gets to himself just because Nicke can’t be alone.

“I’ll shower, then,” Alex says, heading for the bathroom, and Nicke is alone again.

He used to be alone all the time, sort of. Surrounded by pack, watched on all sides, but alone. Then he was with Mari and Kuzy, most of the time, and having a child soaks up your time and energy in a way that Nicke had welcomed. It was easier, wrapped up in keeping someone else alive, to see your own value, where your strength lay.

None of it particularly prepared him for a simple afternoon of leisure, with nothing to do.

Nicke brings up the game night on the walk over to get Mari.

“That sounds fun,” Alex says, a little cautiously, and Nicke nods. It doesn’t really, to him, but it sounds like a step that he wants to take, and like something that might grow into how he wants to be in this pack.

“You can come, too, if you want.”

“Okay.” Alex smiles at him, wide and brilliant, and it settles Nicke a little.

He’s not sure where they’re going, or how he’s going to get there, but he feels more and more like he’s at least pointed in the right direction. That there are people pulling alongside him. That’s enough, for now.

—-

KUZY

“No you’re not,” Dima says, confident.

“We could be!” Kuzy says, offended. “What, you don’t think I’m good enough for him?”

“No, but that’s not the point,” Dima says, rolling his eyes. “You’re such a shitty liar, Zhenya. You give up right when I question your story.”

“I’m not-” Kuzy squawks, then folds his arms, attempting a murderous glare. Dima looks unimpressed. “Sasha is my boyfriend. We’re in love. Fuck you.”

“I’ll go along with your fake dating plan even though I think it’s ridiculous,” Dima says, a little condescendingly in Kuzy’s opinion. What’s Dima doing to fix things, anyway? What kind of schemes has he even come up with? None, that’s what kind. “Because I’m a good friend.”

Kuzy might be a shitty liar. He concedes the point that the relationship is fake so he can argue with Dima’s conclusions. Whatever, as long as Nicke doesn’t find out, they’re fine. “It’s not ridiculous if it works,” Kuzy points out. “Anyway, how’d you know I’m lying?”

“Your crow is a horrible gossip,” Dima says.

“I should have known,” Kuzy grumbles. Koschei is an asshole. None of the family crows growing up liked him, partly because of his penchant for pulling tail-feathers, partly because he’s small and mean and good at wedging himself into the most comfortable roost and pecking anyone who dares challenge him for it, and partly because he’s bossy and never shuts the fuck up. Ivan is ridiculously, indulgently fond of him, which has made him exponentially more insufferable. It also, apparently, means Kuzy can’t keep secrets from Dima anymore. “Don’t trust what he says,” Kuzy tries. “He’s sneaky.” They’re standing near the rookery, almost back to the house from their walk. Kuzy thought it would be smarter to talk to Nastya and Dima individually about the fake dating thing, a choice he now regrets.

Not content with ruining one plan, Koschei foils any attempt at laying groundwork for future schemes by hopping over and starting up an indignant chorus of caws. The meaning of his little speech is mostly too rude to repeat, but the salient points are that diviners are magic’s most worthless children, that he (Koschei) has been tried beyond endurance by being cursed with such an incompetent witch-companion by the corvid gods, and that he must have been an owl in a previous life to have deserved such a lot.

Ivan lands next to him and gives a few calming croaks, and Koschei gives a final shriek of annoyance before settling in to let Ivan groom him.

“Anyway,” Dima says, “you really think lying to Nicke is a good idea?”

“Obviously it’s not a perfect plan,” Kuzy grumbles. So far, fake dating is not going very well. “But what was I supposed to do? He’s finally opening up with Alex. You know how hard it’s been, for him to settle with the pack. If I found a way to make that happen easier, I’m gonna take it.”

“I guess,” Dima says. “He’s your…whatever, so you know best.”

Kuzy grunts in acknowledgement, petting Ivan’s feathers gently. Koschei shoves his way under Kuzy’s hand so Kuzy rolls his eyes and pets him as well.

Something occurs to him, suddenly, and his stomach drops.

“Shit, does Nastya know, too?” Kuzy directs this mostly at Koschei, who seems completely disinclined to answer or be in any way helpful. Ivan informs them that Lena was, in fact, there for the conversation about baffling human decisions, but has no idea whether she talked to Nastya about it.

“Maybe just talk to her?” Dima suggests, then freezes. Kuzy turns to follow his eyeline. Nastya, with Lena on her shoulder, is emerging from the edge of the trees and heading toward them.

“Act natural,” Kuzy hisses, elbowing Dima. Dima elbows him back.

“No, I don’t think it’s any of our business,” Nastya says to Lena, pretending she doesn’t see them. “I trust them to sort themselves out.”

Dima and Kuzy watch Nastya go back into the house. Dima, to his credit, holds in his laughter until she’s fully inside. Koschei starts mimicking the sound immediately, and Kuzy drops his head into his hands and gives up on getting out of this with even a scrap of dignity.

—-

NICKE

Nicke can’t decide whether it will be more awkward to be early to the game night or late, so they end up getting there exactly on time. Nolan opens the door, smiling and waving them in, and Mari is running over to the crowd of kids in the living room as soon as Nicke gets her shoes off.

“I’ll bring this into the kitchen,” Nicke says, taking the covered dish from Alex. “Will you keep an eye on her?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, but he’s watching Nicke closely.

“I’m fine,” Nicke says quietly. Alex puts a hand on his shoulder, gentle, and then follows after Mari.

Mia is sorting out food in the kitchen with a few other alphas, so Nicke’s vague hope of getting a little space to breathe proves futile. He ascertains no one needs help, gets drinks for him and Alex and a juice box for Mari, and heads into the living room. He’d be more comfortable in the kitchen, but he’s not an alpha, here, and would be out of place this early on in party preparation.

It isn’t too crowded yet, so Nicke tucks himself into the corner of the couch Alex saved for him and braces himself to socialize.

With the handful of pack days and the full moon, Nicke has had a little time to get used to being around the pack with Alex. This is less formal than even pack days, though, and a smaller group of people, and Nicke is unsure what exactly is required of him. He hadn’t really participated in optional pack activities in any of his packs growing up, mostly due to having not been invited to or expected at them.

Alex neatly loops him into the ongoing conversation, a half-hearted complaint saga about having to watch the same kids movies a thousand times in a row that’s being periodically interrupted by refereeing the kids’ game of Twister.

“No, she’s right. You aren’t allowed to use paws to make your balance better,” Brooks tells his son.

“Yay!” Leni cheers. “That means I win!”

The next game of Twister is interrupted by dinner, which is mostly potluck dishes that are easy to eat. Everyone has arrived by that point, so they split up into teams for charades.

Nicke mostly watches (Alex is enthusiastic enough for both of them) and ends up running a coloring circle for the kids who are bored waiting for their turn at charades or too distractible to focus on the game. The initial structure of it is helpful, even as the game night starts to split up with kids playing with legos or coloring or making up their own games. Nicke stays sitting on the floor where he shifted partway through charades, tucked between the edge of the room and Alex’s legs. Oliver and a painfully shy little girl who Nicke thinks is called Raina are piled together on Nicke’s lap, coloring quietly. Mari comes over to check in with Nicke and Alex occasionally, but she seems happy in the thick of the group, playing an adapted game of tag that mostly involves bumping into things and being half-heartedly scolded.

He’d be happy to stay there, mostly hidden from view, for the remainder of the night, but Alex gets pulled away into a conversation with Nolan in the kitchen. Nicke feels equally pathetic saying ‘no, I do need you to stay with me for the entire party’ and following Alex into the kitchen, so he just stays where he is. A couple minutes later Raina’s dad offers to take over crayon duty, ‘so you can have a break,’ and Nicke smiles and tries to look like making conversation with near-strangers is something he’s thrilled to have the opportunity to do, actually.

Nicke’s headed for the kitchen, potential for pathetic-ness be damned, when someone calls his name. It’s Andre, who has the littlest Carlson strapped to his chest in a baby carrier.

“Hello,” Nicke says, a little uncertainly. He’s not entirely sure what Andre wants or why he’s talking to him.

“We just got here,” Andre is smiling at him and doesn’t seem to have noticed his discomfort. “Lucca got impatient to see the other kids so I said I’d stay back and wait for Rudy to wake up from his nap.”

“Ah,” Nicke says, casting about for something polite to say in response to this. “I don’t know if there’s still food.”

Andre laughs, shrugging. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll eat later. How’s Mari doing?”

“She’s fine.” Nicke looks around for Mari. She’s showing a group of kids how she can shift her ears at will, basking in the rapt attention. Andre follows his gaze.

“She’s really good at that for her age,” he says.

“She’s worked hard at controlling her shifts.” It comes out more stiffly than Nicke intended. He’s admittedly a little touchy in conversation about his own or (especially) Mari’s self-control. Andre either doesn’t notice or understands why, because he changes the subject to ask what Nicke thinks of the plans for the new expansion on the nursery.

Getting stuck in conversation with Andre is a bit of a mixed blessing. On the one hand, he seems to get along with literally everyone and that makes up for any brusqueness on Nicke’s part. On the other hand, it means people keep coming up to them and trying to include Nicke in discussions.

A completely unplanned for consequence of the game night that he has frankly no idea how to deal with is the astonishing amount of social invitations. He manages to politely decline a few and puts most people off with a lie about needing to talk to Alex first, but he does agree to a few more tentative play dates for Mari with kids he knows she gets along with.

“We should get lunch, too,” Andre says, sounding like he genuinely means it, which is confusing.

“Okay,” Nicke says, too overwhelmed by the onslaught of people being polite to him to figure out what to say to this. He also agrees to coffee with the Carlsons (and possibly Andre; he’s not entirely sure where Andre fits in there), and then gives up on dignity and flees to find Alex.

The game night wraps up fairly early so the kids can wind down before bed, and Nicke carries a sleepy Mari back to their apartment, accompanied by an exuberant Alex.

Nicke knows Alex is easy to get along with, and he appreciates that about him, but it’s also a little strange, trailing in the wake of that.

The initial uptick in interest and politeness, Nicke could attribute to novelty. Wolf packs love gossip, and Alex is a wildly mysterious story in addition to being new. Of course some of that carried over to Nicke, both because he’s more interesting and because having a mate who is a born wolf (albeit with an unknown history) makes him more comprehensible, and therefore acceptable. It hasn’t tapered off in quite the way he expected.

The attention is more a kind of slackness, a laxity of scrutiny toward his actions that Nicke has never had and therefore does not trust. He’s used to being watched, and watched closely, and drawing suspicion and distrust. He’s aware of how fast pack opinion can turn against someone.

He also has to acknowledge, though, that he never had this, to balance against prejudice toward bitten wolves. Not just a mate, someone to be considered with and weighed alongside, but any kind of close pack relationships. He never bothered to stay around to weather scorn when it was just easier to move on. There was no one left behind to miss him, anyway, not until Mari and Kuzy.

But Nicke has a developing handful of almost-friends, here. Not just Alex and the coven, but Mia and Nolan and the Carlsons and, apparently, Andre. He has people who are willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He also has Alex, who cuts a wide swath of friendly politeness through crowds, who is on first name basis with half the pack at this point, who everyone likes and wants to be around. Who people like Nicke more because of. Alex, who is solid and warm and reliable and who, bafflingly, wants to be here.

Mari goes to bed without a fuss, even though it’s a couple hours earlier than her usual bed time. She’ll probably be up early, but Nicke’s relieved that she had fun and seems to be getting along so well with the other kids.

Nicke shuts her bedroom door behind him quietly, walking back into the living room. There isn’t any clean up from dinner, since they ate at the party, but he has laundry to do. He should also probably keep working on reading the book the farming supervisor lent him on correct use of sympathetic magic charms for wolves working with livestock. Nicke is fairly competent at using charms, the difficult part is making them and witches take care of that, but he’s not used to working with animals. It’s getting colder and there’s less to do in the gardens, so he and Alex might be reassigned temporarily. Besides, it was nice of her to lend him the book. Nicke doesn’t exactly find magical theory interesting, but living in a family of witches for several years has at least given him enough context to appreciate it, and understand it.

Nicke intends to go fold laundry first, but when he gets out to the living room Alex is already doing it. Nicke stops in the doorway, watching him, feeling strangely displaced for a moment. He’s had this experience before, many times. It’s never been like this.

Nicke mostly lived alone, growing up, with a pack assigned guardian until he was eighteen and then in wherever bitten wolves were housed in his current pack. He got used to tiny apartments, poorly insulated but mostly private, being cramped and alone. And then, later, he got used to the big, airy Kuznetsov house, to the constant presence of other people floating from room to room, to the weird almost-bubble that formed around him and Kuzy and Mari.

He didn’t have time, really, to get used to their little house, the one the three of them lived in before coming here. It takes Nicke longer to get used to pleasant things, and comfort. In spite of himself, though, he did get used to Kuzy in his space, slotted in neatly alongside him and Mari. He got used to having a co-parent, a partner, someone constantly and insistently reliable through Nicke’s own struggles with trust and re-learning how to live outside a pack.

“Thanks for doing that,” Nicke says. Alex looks over his shoulder and smiles.

“Sure. Go sit, Nicke. I’ll make you tea when I’m done.”

“I’ll do it,” Nicke says, brushing past Alex on the way to the kitchen, but Alex catches his wrist and stops him.

“You’re tired from the party. It’s okay, I got it.”

Nicke almost argues with him; it’s close to new moon and he doubts Alex is getting much from their pack bond. Then again, pack bond really just confirms things through different senses that you know or suspect already. In order for it to form you need to know someone, and care about them, and that means you can tell when they’re tired, and stressed, whatever the moon is doing. Fuck, Nicke doesn’t even know for sure he hasn’t formed one with Alex. He’s never had one before, has nothing to compare it to.

He realizes he’s been staring at Alex’s hand on his wrist, the big, gentle curve of it, for too long, because Alex starts to pull away.

Nicke looks up, smiles at him. “Thanks,” he says. Alex relaxes, hand sliding down to squeeze Nicke’s for a minute before he goes back to laundry.

—-

ALEX

Alex unloads the boxes from the back of the car, thumps on the side window to let Sasha know he’s done, and waves as the car drives away. There aren’t usually vehicles on pack land, here, since the pack is relatively small. Some people have bikes, and there are a few communal cars that are stored in a parking lot near the edge of their territory in case someone needs them. Usually, when he or Nicke have reason to go to or from the witch house, one of the others will give them a ride. There are carts and a few pickup trucks parked nearby, for making deliveries around pack land, and Alex loads one of them.

Today, Alex is in charge of delivering some enchanted objects to various people. He was chosen for this mostly because he and Nicke have the most connection to the coven, and Nicke had been elbow deep in vegetable peelings when the order came down.

In the pack Alex grew up in, which was large and had an old and prestigious Watcher family, wolves used magic all the time. They don’t create it, that’s for witches, but they use it in the form of charms or enchanted items. It’s mostly simple things that make daily life a little easier: woven wards for protection, wands that detect early signs of disease in children, charmed boxes that keep food from spoiling, things like that. He hadn’t thought of it as unusual, or something that could cause controversy. That was one of the smaller but more perpetually confusing aspects of the pack he’d dispersed to.

They had an entirely different attitude towards magic. Instead of witches being an ordinary, well-respected part of pack life, with established modes of greeting and interaction and a healthy presence at major events, they were an unreliable inconvenience. The struggle for power between the cardinal pair of the pack and the tiny council was complicated by an ever-shifting set of allegiances with the area witches, who were more a loose collection of attached than a proper family. Enchanted objects weren’t trustworthy in the same way food that came from land you hadn’t walked yourself wasn’t trustworthy. Trust requires a sort of willingness to lay your throat bare and believe it won’t be bitten, and no one had that, in the pack.

Here is somewhere in between. The coven is new, and largely untested, but they’ve slowly but steadily proved to be a good addition to the pack over the past months.

Kuzy supplies information, Dima protection, Sasha health, and Nastya balance. The dance between the council here and the still-forming coven is tentative and new, but hopeful. The council wanted a family, here, and worked hard to get one. In spite of all the newness, and the potential for things to go wrong, this situation feels much happier and more secure than Alex’s last one. There is a sense of pulling together, of optimism, that smooths out challenges as they come.

“Hey, Alex,” Jean says, waving as he pulls up and parks the pickup in front of the depot.

“Hey,” Alex says. He pulls a face at the baby strapped to Jean’s chest, Alma, who giggles and kicks her feet together. “You need help carrying stuff?” They’ve clearly just been picking up supplies, Jean has a bag slung over one shoulder and is carrying another.

“Oh, we’re fine! We don’t need to interrupt your day!”

“It’s okay,” Alex says. “I’m running early.”

He pokes his head into the depot to let Jay know he’ll be right back, and then helps Jean carry the bags home. It isn’t far, the depot is right by housing, and Alex is back and making his delivery less than ten minutes later.

From there, he stops by the infirmary to drop off some antidotes and healing salves. He doesn’t linger long, there. He’s grateful for the healers, in general, and for the way they helped him recover from the effects of the curse. He’s still unresolved about what to do about his old pack, though, and doesn’t like to lie, so he’d prefer to mostly avoid direct inquiries about his well-being. He does briefly stop by Jess’ station for a chat. She was the first person, after Nicke, he met here, and she’s maintained an attitude of friendliness while also making it clear she thinks the curse is none of her business. Alex likes her a lot.

The barracks are his second to last stop. Training is mostly indoors, this late in the year, so he doesn’t see anyone in the field outside. Tom is waiting for him in the lobby and he waves when he sees Alex, coming over to hold the door open so Alex can carry in the box.

“Sorry it’s late,” Alex says.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Tom replies. “I got to sit around here instead of running drills.” Alex laughs.

“Mike and Andre good?”

“Yeah! Andre said he saw you and Nicke at the Waltons’ game night thing.”

“Yeah, it was fun,” Alex says, smiling. “Andre’s very friendly.” Tom snorts and rolls his eyes.

“He sure is. Anyway, I should get these to the storehouse,” Tom says, patting the boxes. “Thanks again.”

“No problem,” Alex says, waving as he heads for the door again.

The truck bed is almost entirely empty at this point, with just one box remaining. Alex saved the delivery to Braden for last because it’s the farthest away. The pack land has most of the buildings condensed toward the east end, with forested wilderness out to the west for running and hunting. The livestock are kept in the northernmost section of the built up area, separated from the rest of the buildings by the fields and gardens. This is mostly for practical reasons. It takes special skill to handle livestock as a werewolf, and a decent amount of geographical separation from other wolves makes that task easier, especially without magic.

“Hello?” Alex calls, wandering into the barn. He keeps his voice relatively low so as not to startle the cows. A few of them lift their heads sleepily to look at him, but Alex is familiar enough to most of the farm animals to not cause alarm. He doesn’t see Braden, though, so he goes out through the barn and back toward the sheep pasture.

Braden is just closing the gate. He waves to Alex without stopping, walking over to his house. Living alone up here wouldn’t be to Alex’s taste, personally. It’s not really that far from the rest of the pack, but Alex likes having his people directly around him. It’s challenging enough, not having his parents here and having the coven live across town. At least he has Nicke and Mari close by. Braden must like it, though, because he stays up with the animals most of the time, and only comes down into town for pack day and the moon.

“How did the deliveries go?” Braden asks, when Alex lets himself into the house.

“Good,” Alex grins. “Saved best for last.”

Braden rolls his eyes, but he’s also smiling a little. “You can stay for lunch if you want. I was just about to eat.”

Alex sort of wants to get back to check on Nicke, but he also doesn’t want to be rude. Besides, Braden is a friend and Alex likes his company, and a bit of catch up and pack gossip is always nice.

Braden shuffles him out approximately a half-hour later with an undiplomatic but friendly, “I need to get back to work. Go bother your mate.” Alex laughs and hugs him, and does as he’s told.

Saving the errand to Braden’s for last also has the advantage of leaving Alex back near the greenhouse Nicke is mulching right now. He leaves the truck up with Braden, there’s plenty of space for it with the farming equipment and someone will eventually either use it or bring it back to the lot, and walks down across the fields.

Nicke is still approximately where Alex left him early this morning, although he’s nearly finished in this greenhouse by now.

“Hey,” Nicke says, looking up and smiling when he sees who it is. Alex stomach gives a little swoop. “All finished?’

“Yeah,” Alex replies. Nicke has his hair scrunched up into a hair tie that it’s half-fallen out of and smudge of dirt on his cheekbone. He’s glowing with exertion and satisfied with hard work and Alex thinks he’s probably the most beautiful thing the world has to offer.

“Took you long enough,” Nicke grumbles, but it’s fond. He pushes his hair out of his face with the back of his wrist and makes an irritated noise when it doesn’t obey.

“Let me do it,” Alex says, laughing. “You just get more dirt on your face.”

“I don’t have dirt on my face,” Nicke insists, but he doesn’t protest when Alex gently untwists his hair and regathers it into a neater ponytail.

“Sasha says to say hi,” Alex says, remembering.

Nicke huffs a little, getting back to mulching now that his hair is out of his eyes. “I’m sure he did.” Alex does not mention that Sasha also said, _and tell him I say ‘fuck you’ when he says something sarcastic back_. Alex only sort of understands the need to communicate using solely playful antagonism, but he’s happy Nicke and Sasha are getting along.

“How was your day?” Alex asks instead, pulling on a pair of gloves and starting to work alongside Nicke.

“Oh, fine. Quiet.”

“Leave you space for big thoughts?” he teases. Nicke laughs, and opens his mouth, and then shuts it. “What?” Alex asks, nudging him a little. Nicke nudges him back, harder.

“Oh, just…” Nicke trails off again, and Alex obligingly looks at the mulch and lets him collect his thoughts. “I was going to make a joke about it being a nice change, but, I like having you here, actually.”

Alex can’t resist looking over at Nicke, who is flushing and studiously avoiding his eyes. “Careful, Nicke, or I get big head. You give me so many complements.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Nicke says, laughing, and some of the tension goes out of his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if one could reasonably title a fic 'how it feels when you hit that little guitar bit at 3.03 of kathy's song,' that would have been the title, because that's kuzy and nicke in this fic


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m very passionate about ADHD power couple sashakuz, if that has not become apparent yet.
> 
> Second to last chapter!! We are getting there! There is a tiny epilogue I might post as a separate chapter, but if so it will be posted at the same time as the next chapter. So, fic will be finished next update! Probably Tuesday or Wednesday.

NASTYA

Nastya is slogging through an abysmally boring log of council minutes (they sent her the back-catalogue for a year, which was thorough and excessively courteous but has also created a dull and seemingly endless pile of work) when she’s interrupted by Dima.

“I can come back,” he says, eyeing the stack of notebooks and three empty cups of coffee at her elbow.

“No, that’s okay,” Nastya pushes back from her laptop, stretching. “I need a break. What’s going on?”

“I had an idea, wanted to see what you’d think of it.”

“Sure.” Nastya gestures to one of the chairs and Dima sits.

“One of my friends, she’s a pack liaison so I worked with her a lot when I was an attached here, just came back into town. She suggested we have dinner on pack land. Not a formal thing, really, just her and Nicke and Alex and a few other wolves, and then the coven.”

“Oh,” Nastya thinks for a minute, scanning through potential costs, benefits, and repercussions in her head. Since the woman is a liaison and a friend, and since Dima has a slightly longer history with the pack than the rest of them, there shouldn’t be an issue with them accepting the invitation. They’ve kept mostly off pack land, especially en masse, but they all formally met the council and cardinal pair when they got here so they can technically come and go as they please. Nastya didn’t want to suggest a meeting with just Nicke, Alex, and Mari, because that would look a little too exclusive happening on pack land, and Nicke has trouble blending in, anyway. Adding a few more wolves will dispel that awkwardness, though. “That would be good, I think.”

“It’ll have to be short notice if we want to do it before the moon,” Dima says apologetically.

“That’s okay,” Nastya drums her fingers, thinking. “As long as she’s alright with it being informal.” Nastya will need to get a gift for their hostess, and find out the ranks of the wolves involved and if any additional etiquette is required, but Dima can help her with that.

“Okay,” Dima smiles. “I’ll talk to her and get you a guest list.”

This, fortunately, turns out to be fairly small. Nastya, Dima, Sasha, and Kuzy are all invited of course, along with Nicke, Alex, and Mari. Varvara, the hostess, also sends Nastya a list of the invited wolves with their ranks and relationships to each other, and attaches a very sweet note about being excited to meet them.

There’s really only one aspect of the preparation Nastya is not enthused about, and that’s talking to Evgeny. She meant what she told Lena, she intends to stay as far out of this will they or won’t they fake dating scheme as possible. It hasn’t really made a difference around the house, or the archive. Sasha retreats to his basement laboratory just as frequently, and the rest of them alternate between working alone and, increasingly, working in communal spaces unless spellwork requires otherwise.

It probably will continue to be a non-issue for the coven. Nastya trusts they’re both mature enough to handle any relationship changes while preserving the ability to be polite and work together. That’s expected, within a coven, and they’re all still determined to make a serious start on being an established family here. It will make a difference with the wolves, though, and that’s the part Nastya isn’t entirely certain how to sort out.

It’s complicated, and only partly because Evgeny is involved. The pack council have a vested interest in the stability of the coven, and while Nastya might trust in their emotional maturity, the wolves have no reason to. A relationship can be a good sign, a sign that they’re settling, establishing a base, but if it’s intended to be short term it might be better to not mention it to the pack.

It’s also complicated because no one knows quite how to deal with Evgeny and Nicke, as a pair. The tension between Nicke and the pack has decreased with Alex’s arrival, but Nastya is not a wolf. She does not have a bone-deep trust in mate marks, and bonds. She also knows that love can be difficult, and messier than a neat line joining two people. The pack might conclude ‘Nicke is with Alex, therefore Nicke and Evgeny are simple, now,’ but Nastya does not have that luxury. She needs to be prepared for potential fallout from this, from all angles, so she can protect the coven and preserve relations between them and the pack. Nastya is optimistic, that this will end with some configuration of the four of them together and happy, but for now it’s probably better to keep the pack as entirely out of it as possible.

Evgeny doesn’t bring it up, though, and neither does Sasha, and Nastya is somewhat annoyed by this because the two of them know just as much about etiquette and stakes as Nastya does. Nastya is too practical a woman for resentment, though, so she leaves it up to them as long as politeness allows and then takes matters into her own hands.

“Evgeny,” she says, tapping on his door the morning of the dinner. “Could I speak to you for a moment?”

“Sure,” he replies, looking slightly cornered. Nastya raises an eyebrow, and he blows out a long breath and scratches the back of his neck. “It’s about me and Sasha tonight, yeah?”

“I just need to know what you want the official story to be.”

“Yeah.” Evgeny fidgets in his chair slightly, turning it toward the window by degrees. “Sorry. I’ve been trying to decide.”

“Okay,” Nastya says neutrally. As intended, he squirms a little in front of her ‘polite, but determined to wait indefinitely,’ face. Nastya has had a great deal of experience cultivating this face, and it has a marvelous success rate.

Evgeny sighs, finally, looking away. “What do you think we should do?” he grumbles. Nastya fights the desire to roll her eyes, and then decides that actually might be more effective here, and gives in.

“I told you I was staying out of it,” she says, not sharp but pointed. “It’s my job to deal with how this affects our relationship with the pack, but that’s it. The rest you two need to decide for yourselves.” There may be family heads who enjoy wrestling for emotional control, but Nastya is not one of them. She’s not going to tell people how to live their lives or try to determine the course they set. What she wants is what was freely given to her: navigating for herself, smoothing the way for the others.

“Okay,” Evgeny sighs. “I’ll talk to Sasha.”

“Answer by three, please,” Nastya says, polite mask back in place. “I’ll need a few hours to prepare, either way.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Evgeny says sulkily, hunching back over his journal. She leaves him to it.

—-

KUZY

Kuzy feels like a scolded child. He’s annoyed that the knowledge that this was the intended effect of Nastya’s reproof does not dispel the feeling, but he supposes that’s because he’s aware it was deserved. Nastya is being almost aggressively understanding about this entire mess, and he’s repaid her patience by avoiding the issue entirely.

Then again, so has Sasha.

Kuzy is more comfortable once he has someone in mind he can yell at for any given problem, which is helpful in this particular situation. He feels so colossally childish and obvious around Sasha right now, awkward and eager for his attention. It’s not like there’s been a time when he _hasn’t_ felt that way about Sasha, but at least before he had a kind of plausible deniability. The stupid fake dating thing was probably a joke, anyway. Sasha hasn’t brought it up since.

Sasha is still just Sasha. Baffling, and alternately in everyone’s space and hiding in the basement. Kuzy’s fairly certain Sasha has seen Alex, at least, a few times since the fake dating thing started, but he has no idea how those conversations went or if it even came up. He probably should ask about it, just like he probably should ask about what the plan for tonight is. He just keeps picturing Sasha looking confused, and then laughing.

The yelling approach is clearly the most sensible. No one can accuse you of having an embarrassing crush on them and making up excuses to get their attention if you’re scolding them.

Kuzy bangs into the basement, partly to sell the annoyance and partly because Sasha tends to be very difficult to distract from his work.

“Can I help you?” Sasha asks, amused. Kuzy is very glad he decided on pretending to be annoyed beforehand, because Sasha has his sleeves rolled up and his forearms are dangerously distracting.

“Nastya’s asking me about dinner tonight,” Kuzy says, moving a stack of books off a chair so he can sit.

“Oh,” Sasha looks faintly abstracted for a moment. “Right. That’s tonight.”

“Exactly.” Kuzy adapts slightly from ‘annoyance’ to ‘yes, I also have been thinking about this dinner a chill and regular amount and am perfectly capable of forgetting it’s happening for a length of time longer than thirty seconds.’ “We need a plan.”

“A plan?”

“For the,” fuck, has Sasha actually forgotten? “fake dating thing.” Kuzy almost makes this a question but he stomps hard on his tone of voice at the end so he doesn’t sound unsure. Maybe he can play this off as like a work obligation thing that Sasha forgot about. He could be annoyed about that without implying ‘I’m secretly in love with you,’ right?

“Ah,” Sasha says, looking enlightened, and then confused again. “I thought that was the plan?”

“Well,” Kuzy says, still trying to dial it back to ‘thought about this a normal amount,’ “Nastya thinks it might affect things with the pack, if we confirm we’re together, so she wants to know in advance.”

“But,” Sasha’s eyebrows draw together, and he looks adorably confused, “that’s obvious. We just imply but don’t confirm we’re together. No one will ask about it. Nicke will assume the relationship is too new to speak about publicly.”

This does seem like an obvious solution, Kuzy supposes, except, “How do we imply it without confirming it?” He definitely does not say _is that what you’ve been doing the past week because it sure as fuck did not imply anything of the kind_.

Sasha shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ll figure it out.”

This is not encouraging.

“Okay,” Kuzy says, not bothering to hide his skepticism. Sasha grins at him.

“Don’t worry, Zhenya. It’ll be fun.”

“Great,” Kuzy says weakly. “Fun.”

—-

NASTYA

“Welcome!” someone says, opening the door, and Nastya freezes for a second before her extensive etiquette training kicks in and she smiles back politely. Dmitry did not mention that Varvara is incredibly good looking, but that’s fine. Nastya is professional.

“Thank you so much for inviting us,” Nastya says, stepping into the room far enough that the boys can crowd in behind her, but not so far that she’s out of the entryway.

“Of course! I’m Varvara. You must be Nastya.”

“Yes,” Nastya says, standing still so Varvara can scent her and trying to keep her breathing perfectly even.

Varvara introduces herself to the rest of the coven politely and then pounces on Dima, who laughs and catches her.

“Hey, you! You’re still shit at texting,” she scolds, ruffling his hair.

“I text!” Dima protests.

“No, she’s right,” Evgeny says.

“Just because I don’t watch videos you send me at four am I’m bad at it?” Dima argues. His annoyance is somewhat undercut by the fact that he’s still holding up Varvara, who is wrapped around him like a koala bear. Nastya sympathizes. She would probably not be able to generate any annoyance with Varvara wrapped around her, either.

Varvara introduces them to the other wolves, and Nastya puts faces to the names she already memorized: Gina, John, Andre, Mike, Tom, and Christian. It’s a well-distributed group: a mated pair and four younger wolves. Nicke and Alex seem to know all of them. This isn’t exactly a surprise, but Nastya is pleased to see that they seem to be settling into the pack well. Nicke looks much less pinched that she’s used to, almost cheerful.

“Hey,” Alex says, dropping onto the couch next to her. Nastya is sitting back a little, letting everyone circulate and get comfortable with each other. “Brought you a fresh drink.”

“Thank you,” she says, taking the cup and smiling at him. “Having fun?”

“Yeah,” Alex sighs a little, more settling in than tired. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to Nicke.”

“Of course,” Nastya says, oddly touched. “How have things been going here? You like the gardens?”

Alex does like the gardens, and starts telling her a funny story about his friend who runs the depot and his attempts at going off-roading. He’s halfway through asking her about Lena when Nicke drifts over to them. More accurately, Nicke tries to give the impression he’s merely passing by and happened to stop, but mostly just succeeds in looking like he’d gotten up to get a drink and Nastya had taken his seat.

“Hi, Nicke,” Alex says, smiling up at him obliviously.

“Hi.” Nicke softens slightly, but his eyes are still sharp when he looks at Nastya. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you Nicke. How are you?”

She leaves Nicke to hover over Alex protectively after another minute of small talk. It’s probably time for her to circulate, anyway. People have loosened up enough that it won’t feel like an inspection, and she wants to greet everyone personally before the evening progresses too much.

Nastya leaves Varvara for last, so she can spend the most time talking to her. This is partly just being polite, Varvara is their hostess and a friend of the coven’s and Nastya wants to cultivate that relationship, but it’s also partly to give herself time to steady.

She picks up a recipe for a good marinade from Gina, a helpful tip about infirmary supply issues from Christian, and a polite invitation to the barracks from Tom, smiles and shakes hands and lets everyone scent and evaluate her. She’s already met a few of the wolves, so it’s not entirely new, and overall everyone seems courteous and vaguely disinterested.

This is a relief. Nastya wants their relationship with the pack to be a bit looser, more informal. Partly this is for Nicke’s sake, but partly she just thinks it’s a better fit for the coven. None of them are particularly interested in rank, or prestige, and they would rather be on friendly terms than treated as honored guests.

“All finished?” Varvara asks, touching her elbow lightly, as Nastya stops by the kitchen to refill her water.

“Excuse me?” Nastya isn’t entirely sure what she means. Varvara smiles, a little mischievously.

“Oh, I know how it goes. You have to be nice to everyone, make sure they aren’t intimidated, strike the right balance between being serious and being distant.” Nastya flushes a little, not sure if she’s being criticized or praised. “I’ll tell you a secret,” Varvara continues, leaning toward her. “I do the same thing.” Nastya laughs, relaxing slightly, as Varvara laughs, too. “It’s very boring, having to be diplomatic all the time. For me, anyway! Maybe you’re better at it.”

“It’s easier when everyone is in one place,” Nastya says. “You just need to figure out one set of dynamics. I can’t imagine having to travel and do this all the time.”

“It has good aspects and bad,” Varvara says, shrugging. “Honestly though, I find that most packs and most covens are all kind of the same. Just full of people trying to figure out how to relate to each other.”

“Do you meet with a lot of different packs?”

“In the past few years, yes. The pack here is getting bigger and so we’re trying to make sure all our relationships with other packs in the state are at least cordial, if not actively friendly. And then, we’re going to start accepting more dispersals, soon, so I’ve been looking at those programs in other packs and how they’re set up.”

“It sounds interesting, meeting so many people.”

“I like it,” Varvara says, shrugging. “I should have a bit of a break coming up now, though, which will be nice. I have meetings with the council and pack coordinator in the next couple weeks, to talk about planning for the future.” She looks at Nastya, evaluating. “And then, of course, I wanted to meet the new coven.”

“Oh?” Nastya smiles a little. “What do you think of us so far?”

“So far, so good,” Varvara says, smiling back.

—-

KUZY

Sasha’s idea of ‘fun,’ is apparently ‘torture Kuzy.’

Things aren’t so bad, at first. They get to the house and through introductions with a minimum of fuss. Varvara is gregarious enough to smooth out any potential awkwardness, Nastya is capable as always at navigating dicey social situations, and everyone settles in for drinks and socializing readily enough. Kuzy even manages a short chat with a surprisingly relaxed Nicke, before Nicke goes to hover jealously over Alex like a cranky hummingbird.

This is all the reprieve he is allowed.

“Nicke okay?” Sasha asks, sidling up beside Kuzy and putting a hand on his lower back. Kuzy almost jumps and pulls away, before remembering that, right, fake dating.

“He’s fine,” Kuzy says, trying to appear relaxed.

“Oh, good,” Sasha says, pleased.

He just sort of doesn’t stop touching Kuzy from there. It’s nothing blatant. He’s not trying to hold his hand, or sitting on his lap, or anything like that. Kuzy’s seen him be more physical with Alex; tonight, even, when Alex greeted Sasha by squeezing him and lifting him off his feet. Alex is a wolf, though, and wolves, for the most part, are like that. They touch easily, and often, and Nicke is the exception rather than the rule.

Sasha is not a wolf, and Kuzy does not know what to make of this. Sasha’s wrist nudging against his when they stand side by side, Sasha coming into conversations by hooking his chin over Kuzy’s shoulder, Sasha’s thigh pressing into his all through dinner, Sasha whispering conversational asides in his ear, Sasha’s arm around the back of his chair, Sasha’s body, warm and close and overwhelming.

Kuzy slinks off to the bathroom while after-dinner coffee is being prepared, trying to get his head together. He splashes cold water on his face and then glares at himself in the mirror for a bit, lecturing himself.

Kuzy is not a wolf, either, and anyway he’s used to Nicke. Nicke touches like it’s an oasis in the desert that he suspects is a mirage, tentative and desperate. He rations it, and can never quite ease into it, and so Kuzy is careful with him. He lets Nicke control contact, trying to offer enough that Nicke feels wanted without so much that he feels trapped. Sasha touches like he speaks, like the tide, either everywhere or nowhere, unpredictable and overwhelming.

Someone taps on the door and Kuzy starts slightly, composing himself before he opens the door.

“Everything okay?” Sasha asks, crowding into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

“Uh,” Kuzy says, taking an instinctive step back out of sheer self-preservation. There wasn’t really room for Sasha to step into the bathroom. It’s not a large one, and Kuzy was right by the door. “Fine.” Sasha is watching him closely, but Kuzy’s brain feels too slow and sluggish to work out what his expression is saying.

“You don’t look fine,” Sasha points out, after Kuzy doesn’t say anything more. Sasha puts the back of his hand on his forehead, like Kuzy is a child with the flu trying to insist on going to a friend’s house. “You feel all clammy.” Kuzy fights down a hysterical bubble of laughter at the absurdity of this situation he’s somehow gotten himself into.

“I’m fine,” he insists. Sasha isn’t really much bigger than Kuzy. He still seems to loom, somehow, with his huge fucking hands and his broad shoulders and the way he smells like something rolling over you and pressing you into the ground.

“If you say so, Zhenya,” Sasha says skeptically. “Anyway, come out. You’re missing dessert.”

“Yeah, okay,” Kuzy says. He follows Sasha helplessly. Again.

—-

NICKE

Nicke is a little surprised to see Christian, the healer from the night he met Alex, at the dinner. He seems to be connected to Andre in some way. Nicke is quickly learning that Andre is somewhat of a social octopus, close to many people and impossible to escape from once he has you in his sights. Nicke can’t quite decide how he feels about it. Normally people trying to befriend him make him nervous, but Andre already knows about the bitten thing, and the Kuzy thing, and the mate mark thing, and has dealt with Nicke pissed off and protective over Mari. It’s hard to get concerned he’s going to find something out and bolt when he’s had the chance and just remained enthusiastically friendly.

Christian, Nicke is less sure about. Christian pulls him aside after the two of them clear the table from dinner, while everyone else is focused on sorting out the dishes and making coffee.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure,” Nicke says, a little surprised. He hasn’t spoken to Christian since Alex woke up, although he’s seen him in passing a few times.

“It’s good to see you.”

“You, too,” Nicke says.

“Alex seems to be doing well.”

“He’s fine.” Some of Nicke’s wariness must be obvious because Christian looks away from him, appeasing.

“I’ve just been feeling guilty I haven’t followed up with either of you. It’s been really busy, with the weather changing the kids are all getting colds, and I figured you’d come in and see us if something was really wrong, but…” he trails off, frowning a little.

“Oh,” Nicke relaxes slightly. “It’s been fine.” _You already said that_. “Nothing major to report.” It might not be a good idea to actually lie about this, but Alex isn’t ready to sort things out in an official capacity with his former pack, so it’ll have to do for now.

“That’s good,” Christian says, but he still looks a little worried. “They’re still trying to find information about his birth pack, but you know how slow that can be.” Nicke does know. It’s one of the facts of pack life, both a benefit and a drawback.

Nicke grew up in several different packs, and lived as an adult in many more. He officially transferred, usually, but paperwork is slow and gets lost a lot, since wolves are mostly terrible with technology and mail generally all goes through the coordinator’s office. Pretty much everyone disperses once they reach adulthood, but pack structure isn’t really made to accommodate more than that single, predictable change. Wolves still rely a lot on the honor system, and letters of introduction, and reputation following you from pack to pack.

It’s been a benefit to Nicke in that no one questions his claim as Mari’s father. Since her birth parents gave up custody (and were uninterested in being involved in her life, when Nicke wrote to them), the human legal system has no reason to get involved. No one else in Nicke’s pack had wanted to claim her, and the wolf who had bitten her had been happy to let them disappear. It might have been an issue if Nicke had gone directly into a new pack, because between that and him and Mari being bitten, any pack would see too high a potential for conflict to accept him. Nicke had circumvented that by coming into this pack with a recommendation from a Watcher family.

This is part of why he wants Mari to grow up here, though, in one place. Each additional transfer Nicke undertook gave him freedom, and a new start, but it also saddled him with a reputation for being untrustworthy and unreliable. Even his officially sanctioned transfers were looked at skeptically, because bitten wolves are already seen as unstable and unreliable, and bad for pack solidarity, and Nicke leaving a pack was always evidence of his own shortcomings.

“Yes,” Nicke says finally, noncommittal. “He’s doing well here, though,” slightly pointed, “settling in.”

“Of course,” Christian says hastily. “He’s proved a great asset to the pack, already.”

“Yes,” Nicke agrees. Alex, with his easy confidence and his oversized kindness and his seemingly endless compassion, would probably fit well in any pack, but Nicke is proud of how well he’s doing, here. “So we’re fine for now, whatever happens with his birth pack.”

Christian takes being shut down well enough, and lets Nicke steer the conversation into more general topics, but Nicke ponders if he needs to do something more to address this.

It’s unlikely they’ll be able to trace Alex back to the pack he came from. It wasn’t very large, or very well run, and there’s a limit to how wide their influence reaches even if they were actively looking for Alex. The curse sent him several states away from where he started, which is well beyond their reach. It seems equally unlikely, too, that they are actively looking for him. With the involvement of a witch in his disappearance, especially one the pack was on uncertain footing with already, the case will be quickly closed and moved on from. The pack did, apparently, notify Alex’s parents of his disappearance, and while they are understandably anxious about him and want to see him as soon as possible, they also understand he wants the time and space to make a decision about what to do next without getting pack bureaucracy involved.

Officially transferring into the Capitals pack wouldn’t necessarily be difficult for Alex. Born wolves, especially those with a decent rank in their birth packs, have a little more leeway for changing packs. A mate mark is also an easily understandable and verifiable reason to transfer packs. It’s still a major decision, though, and not one Nicke wants Alex to make lightly.

Right now, the system is mostly working so that they can stay off the radar and sort things out themselves. Nicke is a little worried about Christian nosing around and potentially digging something up before they’re ready to deal with it. He doesn’t want Alex to be rushed into a decision, and he certainly doesn’t want Alex to be sent back to his former pack. Alex might be convinced that the witch who cursed him isn’t going to come after him, but Nicke still intends to keep him as far away from her as he can.

He sets the debate aside for now, focusing on the rest of dinner. He’ll talk to Alex, and possibly Dima and Nastya, and they’ll figure out a plan. There’s no point in worrying when he can’t do anything about it right now.

_Still,_ Nicke thinks, and goes to find Alex. He’ll be more comfortable, having eyes on him.

—-

KUZY

Dima heaves a sigh, throwing himself into the back seat of the car.

“That went okay, I think,” he says, half-heartedly pushing back when Kuzy shoves his way in next to him.

“Yeah,” Sasha says, twisting around in the passenger seat to look at them as Nastya pulls out of the lot. He smiles at Kuzy, a little smug. “I told you it would be fine.”

“No one was even paying attention to us,” Kuzy grumbles. “After all that fuss.”

“No fuss,” Sasha says serenely. “Right, Nastya?”

“Hmm?” Nastya says, sounding like she’s not paying attention to any of them. “Yeah. It went well.”

Kuzy makes a grumpy noise and pulls up the hood of his jacket, leaning back against the car seat.

“What’s wrong with you?” Dima whispers, once Sasha has turned back around and started fiddling with the radio.

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

Dima gives him a skeptical look. “You just mad Nicke didn’t get all jealous?”

“No,” Kuzy hisses, which makes it sound like that is what he’s mad about, but who cares. Dima is being dumb, anyway, so Kuzy pinches his thigh hard. Dima squawks at him and then ignores him for the rest of the car ride.

In all honesty, Kuzy isn’t entirely sure what he’s upset about. It’s good no one questioned, or even noticed, the fake dating thing. It’s good Nicke is starting to relax and make friends. It’s good he and Alex are getting along so well. It’s good, it’s what he wanted, and he doesn’t understand why all of it together is making him want to break something.

Nastya goes straight to her room when they get back to the house, probably sensible as it’s getting fairly late. Dima also disappears upstairs, albeit with a, “Tell me if you want to talk when you stop being an asshole,” for Kuzy. Kuzy says goodnight, and flips him off, and goes to flop on the couch and sulk for a while.

Unfortunately, Sasha is lurking in the living room. In the dark. Again.

“You’re a fucking goblin,” Kuzy complains, because Sasha is laughing at him for the startled noise he made.

“For a diviner you’re remarkably easy to surprise,” Sasha says, petting Grisha like some sort of Bond villain.

“I don’t look out for ambushes in my own home.”

“That’s your first mistake.” Grisha hops down from Sasha’s lap, and Sasha gets to his feet. He starts walking toward Kuzy, who feels slightly like a rabbit that a hawk has just sighted. He doesn’t want Sasha looking at him right now, or talking to him, or touching him. He just wants to be alone, to figure out what he’s so upset about, and who he can blame for it.

Sasha, perplexingly, does none of the above. He hands Kuzy something, instead.

“What’s this?” Kuzy asks, staring down at the book blankly. It’s old, and it looks well cared for, although there are no markings of any kind on the outside. It tingles against his palms, the magic woven through it so heavy that his hands go a little numb.

“You wanted the source, for the story about the fox and the tree.”

Kuzy stares at Sasha, and then at the book. He has no idea what Sasha is talking about, at first. Or, that’s not quite right. He knows what Sasha is referring to, but it won’t connect in his mind. It feels like missing a step in the dark, like Sasha has somehow reached into his memory and plucked something out. Then he remembers the journal, the apology, the way he offered up a trove of memory and study and magic, a gesture of goodwill, and the world rights itself.

“I thought you’d forgotten about that journal,” Kuzy says. “I forgot about it. You read it?”

“Of course I read it.” Sasha looks slightly put out, for some reason. “You gave it to me, to read.”

“Yeah,” Kuzy looks down at the book in his hand, again. He wants to open it, wants it with his heart beating in his fingertips and his mouth a little dry, but he still doesn’t understand.

He was eleven, the first time he read the story. It was summarized, retold, used to explain a tricky and somewhat obscure bit of magical theory. He doesn’t remember the theory, just that it had to do with creating poison antidotes from the poisons themselves. The story was a little lightly sketched fairy tale, something about how things often come into your life in disguise. Like most little things, the implications of it spun out far beyond the borders of the story itself. What looks like a friend could become an enemy. What looks like kindness could be cruelty. Most important, though, what looks small, and uninteresting, and plain can be formidable, can weight your whole life.

It fascinated Kuzy: the nesting layers of the story, the way it neatly stepped down smaller and smaller, tiny iterations of the principle of the whole. It took over his life for almost a week, re-reading and obsessively dissecting the article for more pieces he’d missed, more clues, more half-hidden bits of meaning. It took over his studies for over a month, as he tracked down a handful of the author’s other pieces through a second cousin in Canada with a subscription to the North American Journal of Witchcraft and a soft spot for Kuzy.

Magical theory is a strange discipline, placed as it is on the battleground between Watcher families’ desire to keep their knowledge private and the unslakable thirst for knowledge that characterizes witches, sets them aside from humans. What little information witches share with each other publicly tends to be abstracted, unclear, fragmented, missing key pieces of family lore and history. It also tends to be impossible to gain these missing pieces, because any sensible witch who wants to keep their place in their family or coven, writes under a pseudonym.

Kuzy, developing as a witch, was simultaneously addicted to hoarding as much information as he could possibly attain and irritated by the way that led to a growing collection of mysteries he had no hope of solving. The same stubborn curiosity that pushed him toward divining, a desire to _know_ , to possess by knowledge, made him impatient in the attainment of that knowledge.

It’s something he still doesn’t know how to resolve, and can’t walk away from. He can’t stop himself from reading beginnings, even knowing they lack an ending, and he blames it almost entirely on that fucking story. He’s told and retold it thousands of times, to himself and then to Mari, with different little twists every time.

There’s something eternally tantalizing about a good story, not quite finished. About a skeleton, a sketch, an outline, more full of potential than something neatly wrapped up could ever be. About a mystery you have to solve yourself, about something that gives you just enough to wake you up and get your brain whirring.

Kuzy, at eleven, had never been as satisfied as he was by that half-told story, by how it twisted, through mysterious alchemy, into entire worlds in his mind. He’s read a lot since then. Better things. More polished things. Elegant explorations of theory, didactic family histories, the half-obscured myths that drove him into divining, things that shaped his life, that felt like destiny.

None of it has ever held quite as much magic as that first wild exploration, and nothing has stuck with him in quite the same way as that little fairy tale, embedded in an article.

“Where did you get this?” Kuzy asks, finally.

“Great-great uncle,” Sasha says. “Also, strategic smoke bomb. It’s a little childish but no one ever expects it. That’s how I smuggled most of my books out, from home and then other covens.”

“You do have a lot of books,” Kuzy says, still staring at the book in his hands. He feels like he’s still missing a piece. “I still don’t get how you found it.” Sasha doesn’t say anything in reply and Kuzy looks up at him, catching his face as it slides from incredulous to diverted. And that, that familiar look of Sasha, two steps ahead of everyone else, is what finally clues him in. “You wrote the article,” Kuzy says.

“Yes,” Sasha says. “I do hope you found some of my later work, eventually. I was terribly pretentious in my early publications and I wouldn’t want that to be your only impression of me.” He’s smiling like this is all an amusing but ultimately trivial joke, and Kuzy can’t deal with any of it.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” he says. “Thanks for the book.”

—-

SASHA

Sasha watches Evgeny disappear up the stairs, frowning a little in confusion. He’s been acting strangely all evening. At first, Sasha thought it was just nerves. Everything went fine at the dinner, though. Even Nicke had fun, and he prefers to remain miserable if at all possible.

Evgeny’s reaction to the book was equally baffling. Sasha had expected surprise, or (optimistically) excitement. He’d been pleased to discover the little connection in their pasts, and thought it might be a good conversation starter. Even if Evgeny hadn’t been particularly interested in the story Sasha referenced, a book of family legends is a powerful magical gift. It’s not something you give away lightly, and Sasha had left out the part of the story of the book’s abduction where the entirety of his mother’s side of the family still doesn’t speak to him, over this and just three other books.

Evgeny likes reading about magic, especially new points of view or fields he hasn’t encountered before. He also likes stories, especially seemingly simple ones, and ones with unlikely heroes.

Sasha runs his fingertips carefully over the dinner, trying to find something that could have upset Evgeny. Nicke was a little distracted by Alex, but Evgeny hadn’t seemed to even have noticed this, particularly. He spent most of the evening keeping the general conversation going, with his quick tongue and easy laugh, not focused on anyone in particular. Other than the strange encounter in the bathroom, when Evgeny seemed a little subdued but otherwise alright, Sasha had thought he was in relatively good spirits.

_Maybe it was just nerves_ , Sasha thinks, tramping down the stairs to the basement. He doesn’t turn on the light, finding his way to his chair by muscle memory and the little flashes of sight he gets from Grisha. The thought is not encouraging, because Sasha himself was the most consistent aspect of Evgeny’s evening. Sasha still has no idea what it is about him that makes Evgeny so nervous. Made, he thought. It’s a bit depressing, the realization that maybe that hasn’t changed as much as he hoped.

Sasha is not a man one would ever accuse of steadiness, but it still smarts a little, the idea that Evgeny doesn’t find him trustworthy. At least a little. At least to be friends with, and to work magic alongside. The fake dating thing was a silly suggestion, initially, something he thought they could laugh at. When Evgeny brought it up again, put it in action, Sasha was surprised but pleased. He knew it was more about Nicke than about Sasha, but that was okay. Sasha wants Nicke to be happy, too, and to feel safe here.

_You’re sulking._ Grisha hops up onto his lap _and you forgot to feed me dinner_.

“I fed you before we left, greedy cat,” Sasha says, petting down Grisha’s spine the way he likes. He gets him a little midnight snack, anyway.

Grisha is right. There’s no point being upset about the way things are. He’ll just keep working at it, here, and hope that things click eventually.

There’s always another coven, if not.

—-

NICKE

Nicke is somewhat apprehensive, going back home after dinner. It’s the first time in a long time he’s left Mari with a babysitter, and the sparse handful of times in the past were Kuzy’s relatives who she was already familiar with and knew well. Initially, the plan was for her to have dinner with Oliver’s family, which she’s done before and only makes Nicke slightly nervous something will go horribly wrong. They’d had a last minute conflict, though, and the Carlsons offered to share their sitter, and Nicke hadn’t felt like he could just back out of this dinner at the last minute.

Picking her up goes fine. She had fun painting with Lucca, and they had pizza, and she informs Alex and Nicke of all of this excitedly on the short walk back home.

It goes downhill rapidly from there. First, she doesn’t want to get ready for bed and tries to insist on sleeping in her clothes. Then, she won’t sit still for her story and keeps interrupting Alex to ask questions about a book that she’s heard probably fifty times. She starts crying when Nicke tries to turn off the lights but also doesn’t want her night light on.

She finally settles down with Nicke and Alex sitting on either side of her bed, with the compromise that they’ll stay there until she falls asleep if she lays down and closes her eyes.

It’s tiring, and Nicke worries it’s because she’s just had too much change and new stuff lately, and that he’s letting her do too much. Logically, he knows that being a child is just difficult sometimes, having to cope with life with limited control and perspective and strategies for when things go wrong. It’s not a particularly severe storm of emotions, all things considered, and Mari will probably be her normal, cheerful self when she wakes up.

He still worries, and wonders if going to the dinner was the right choice, and-

Alex reaches across the bed, tapping his wrist gently, and Nicke looks over at him.

“Okay?” Alex mouths. Mari is asleep, Nicke’s fairly sure, but he’s waiting a few more minutes to make sure they don’t wake her going out. He nods at Alex, attempts a smile.

Alex brings it up again once they’re in the living room, though, and Nicke sighs.

“I’m just worried about Mari,” he says.

“Natural state of being a parent,” Alex smiles at him, gently teasing but sympathetic.

Nicke snorts. “Yeah.”

“Dinner was good, though, and she’ll be okay tomorrow,” Alex says.

It should be annoying. Nicke hates being told how to feel. For some reason, though, it isn’t with Alex. Maybe it’s because Nicke knows that Alex worries about Mari, too, and cares about her. Maybe it’s because he knows Alex isn’t being dismissive or flippant, he’s just trying to help Nicke focus on the positive aspects of the situation. Maybe it’s just because it’s Alex, with his warm, steady consistency and his big heart and his ability to love almost anyone.

“Hopefully,” Nicke says with a sigh. He looks at Alex, who is shifting around against the arm of the couch so that he can sit more comfortably. There’s so much empty space next to him, and he looks so warm and cozy, and Nicke could just slip right in, lean against him. Alex would let him, would wrap an arm around him and let Nicke lean on his shoulder. Alex, who is big and safe and smells like pack, like coven, like home.

Nicke’s phone buzzes on the counter, yanking his attention away. It’s probably for the best. Nicke is trying not to touch Alex too much, too desperately. Not when things are still so unsure, when Alex still might leave.

Not now. Not yet.

—-

KUZY

“What’s wrong?” Nicke answers the phone, in the flat, alert tone of voice he gets for emergencies.

_Nothing,_ Kuzy tries to say, but it sticks in his throat. “Can you talk for a minute?” he says instead. His voice comes out hoarse and a little unsteady.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Nicke says, and Kuzy hears rustling on the other end, the sound of a door closing softly.

Kuzy wants to just spill everything, right now. The stupid fake dating idea, how miserable and unmanageable his crush on Sasha has gotten, the magical book that’s still tugging on his attention insistently from next to him on the window seat. That’s not even all of it, although it’s what he’s most confused about currently and the reason he called Nicke in the first place.

It’s more like this: he misses when things were simpler, even though they hurt more. He misses Mari and Nicke, the three of them stumbling along shaky and together. He misses the almost breathless closeness of only having each other, depending on each other, knowing each other so well and trusting each other so much that there weren’t clear lines where Kuzy ended and Nicke began.

Kuzy also realizes he can’t just say all that, not now. Not less than a week from the moon, not with a lie still between them, not with how it’s late, and Nicke needs to be up early, and with Alex mixed in with everything there. Nicke is waiting, though, patient and quiet on the other end of the line, and he needs to say something.

“Can we go camping after the moon? Just the three of us?” Kuzy says finally. There’s more rustling on the other end of the phone, Nicke settling in.

“We haven’t done that in a while,” Nicke says, and it’s his soft voice, the private one that he only uses with people he loves. Kuzy presses the phone closer to his ear, wishing he could pull Nicke to him by sheer will.

“Yeah,” Kuzy says. “I know it can’t be on the full, and you have pack stuff-”

“We can do it,” Nicke breaks in gently. “I’ll figure out a time, okay?”

“Okay.” Kuzy listens to Nicke breathe for a little while, letting the white noise of Nicke’s existence calm Kuzy down.

He starts to drift a little eventually, the long day and the excitement and stress of the evening catching up to him.

“Kuz?” Nicke says, and Kuzy rouses himself enough to make a questioning noise back. “Go lie down, okay? I’ll stay on until you fall asleep.”

“Okay,” Kuzy says, climbing into the big canopy bed and curling around one of the pillows. His ear is starting to ache from having the phone pressed against it, so he puts it on speaker and lays it on the bed next to him.

“Love you,” Nicke says.

“Love you, too.”

Kuzy lets his eyes drift closed, picturing Nicke at his back and Mari sleeping on his chest, imagining he’s surrounded by coven. Safe.

He falls asleep to the sound of Nicke, breathing on the other end of the line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nastya and Varv are in love bye!! LAOKULAHRP (love alex ovechkin, known u-haul lesbian, and his Russian polycule)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: A character has a panic attack during a (consensual) sexual encounter. The sex is immediately stopped + the source of the panic is addressed, and the situation ends w resolution for both characters.

NASTYA

“Thanks for meeting me,” Alex says.

“Of course.” Nastya tilts her head, looking at him assessingly. The message from Alex had surprised her, a little. Sasha, who had delivered it, hadn’t indicated what it was about, or given her any information beyond a date and time.

They’re on the edge of pack territory, walking through the woods, and Nastya feels a little bit like a spy. She has Lena overhead keeping watch, just in case. There isn’t really any reason either of them shouldn’t be exactly where they are, or alone together, but wolves get touchy about territory this close to the moon. Nastya would rather not be surprised.

“I have to admit something,” Alex says slowly, and Nastya’s brain clicks into gear, cycling quickly through contingency plans. She doesn’t know what this is about, not yet, but she’ll figure out a way to protect the coven, including its wolf members. Including Alex. No matter what.

Whatever it is, he doesn’t seem particularly eager to disclose it. Nastya is practiced at not pushing. She watches the edges of the trees, and the cloud of her breath in the crisp air, and listens to the sound of her boots crunching over dying leaves. “Nicke already knows,” Alex says, “but- it’s about how I came here.”

He seems to be waiting for a reply, after this, so Nastya gives him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Alex. Just tell me. I’ll sort it out.”

Alex takes a breath in, and does.

It’s a long story, although Nastya thinks a lot of the detail is more relief at being honest about all this than because Alex thinks she really needs the information. If this is going where Nastya thinks it’s going, though, it’s helpful to have the complete context of Alex’s background, his rank in both his former packs, how exactly the conflict with the witch came about, and what the curse entailed, as far as Alex can guess.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this before,” Alex says, looking at the path ahead rather than at her. Nastya pats his arm.

“I understand why you didn’t,” she says, gently. Alex’s shoulders drop slightly in relief, and Nastya moves past it without bothering with reprimand. She does understand, and she’s more concerned with what this means for them moving forward than anything else. “I’m guessing,” Nastya continues, “that you’re telling me all this because you’ve decided to stay?”

“Yes,” Alex says. He looks more certain, now, is no longer avoiding her eyes. “I want to be a part of this pack, and this…” he trails off.

“We don’t have a good word for it, do we? For the seven of us,” Nastya says thoughtfully.

“Family,” Alex says, and Nastya smiles. That’s a good enough word for it, she supposes. “It won’t happen again, the hiding things. I want to be honest with all of you, from now on.”

Nastya gives this the weight it deserves, mulls it over, and nods, finally. “I think,” she says slowly, “that you’re making a wise choice. We’re happy to have you here.”

There’s more to decide: what, exactly, Nastya will tell the pack coordinator, when they’ll arrange Alex’s transfer, what he and Nicke have decided to do about the mate mark, but this is a big step.

Nastya hugs Alex goodbye, and lets the thought of _family_ settle under her skin, and heads home.

—-

NICKE

Nicke is trying very hard to not look directly at all the reasons he’s a little afraid to be alone with Alex, right now.

The moon is heavy and big in the sky, and he can feel the weight of it even during the day, even inside. They’re hurtling toward the full moon fast, and Alex is staying, and Nicke is keeping his hands busy but he can’t stop his mind from wandering.

He wanted to go with Alex to see Nastya, because as much as he doesn’t want to be alone with Alex he also doesn’t want Alex out of his sight. It’s unnecessarily risky for both of them to sneak off, though, and anyway Nicke wants to be reachable in case anything happens to Mari at the nursery.

It should maybe feel anticlimactic. He knew, on some level, that Alex planned to stay here. That Alex is pack, now. That he has a pack bond, a _mate mark_ , tying him here.

It doesn’t feel anticlimactic at all. It feels terrifyingly huge, big as the moon, and it’s loomed over Nicke like presentment since Alex dropped the news this morning.

He’s happy? He thinks he’s happy. He would be happy if he could find the stupid duster, anyway, because he’s finished re-lining the kitchen cabinets and not having something to do is making his throat close up.

He finds the duster, and still mostly just feels scared.

The sixth month Nicke was at the Kuznetsov house, the second since he’d been able to bring himself to leave Mari’s side to go run, it had been summer, and almost-storming.

It itched under his skin, a needle-deep restlessness pressed there by the close heat of summer and the oppressive smell of the air in the house. Too small. Too full of humans. Even inside, Nicke could feel the hunger in the air, taut and sizzling like heat lighting, begging for rain.

It was a miserable day, hot and dry, and getting out of the house, even with the moon making his head swim and spin, felt like relief. For a little while, anyway.

_  
Nicke can’t stop fucking shaking. He’s given up running, too weak and dizzy with pack hunger to even walk in a straight line, and is just lying on his back, looking up at the moon._

_He doesn’t have any idea what time it is. He knows he was wolf for a while, and that he’s not too far from he Kuznetsov house, and that he’s alternately suffocatingly hot and freezing cold. He’s too stubborn to try to go back, yet. Last time felt long, and it ended up only being fifteen minutes, and he’s determined to be out longer than that this time._

_The moon is so bright it swallows up his attention, and he loses a little more time._

_He can smell Kuzy before he sees him, and Nicke half tries to get to his feet. He’s managed to get up to his knees by the time Kuzy finds him, and Kuzy immediately pushes him back down onto the ground._

_“What’s wrong?” Nicke asks. “Is Mari-”_

_“She’s fine,” Kuzy sounds angry, or upset maybe, but Nicke’s focus slips away before he can discern which._

_“Safe?” he asks, trying to pull it back. This is important._

_“She’s safe. She’s asleep, and mama’s right down the hall if she wakes up.”_

_“Okay,” Nicke says. There’s more, something about why Kuzy is out here, but the moon rolls across the sky and Nicke abruptly loses his grasp on being human._

_It hurts differently, as a wolf. He’s been flip-flopping all night, whenever he can’t endure being one anymore, he becomes the other. The wolf is big, and heavy, and not particularly safe for all his disorientation, but Kuzy doesn’t smell like fear. He smells, mostly, like the familiar air of the house, and like sweat. He smells increasingly, in a way human-Nicke won’t think about, like pack._

_Wolf-Nicke is also less circumspect. He chases the smell of pack, pressing his nose to Kuzy’s hands, neck, armpits, stepping into him with his big paws._

_He’s saying something Nicke can’t parse, and burying his hands in the thick ruff of Nicke’s coat, and Nicke is still cold and a little lost but he hurts less._

_They end up collapsed on the ground, Nicke lying across Kuzy’s chest, shaggy and heavy and panting from the heat. He feels so lost, like he’s the empty bright flashes of light in the sky, soundless. Kuzy starts talking to him, and Nicke’s wolf brain is too fuzzy to understand, to even tell what language he’s speaking, but the words settle on him like Kuzy’s hands in his coat._

_It’s too much, the loneliness of it, and he’s pressing himself as close as he can get to Kuzy and still feels like he’s shaking apart._

_They stay like that for a long time, and limp into the house together.  
_

This close to the moon, Nicke should be able to tell, if he’s forming a pack bond with Alex. That’s part of why he doesn’t want to be alone with him; he isn’t ready to know that, for sure.

He’s afraid of how much he wants, how much all the dark secret things he’s tucked away are crawling out into the light.

Alex is staying, and Nicke doesn’t have anything to hide behind anymore, and at this rate the apartment is going to smell like cleaning products far into next week.

—-

KUZY

Avoiding Sasha is probably not the most mature solution Kuzy has ever concocted, but it’s going to have to do until he can talk things out with Nicke. That’s the plan, anyway. Annoyingly, right after the dinner, Sasha goes back to mostly just ignoring Kuzy. Probably, Kuzy should just take the win, but he has always hated being ignored.

He reads the book of family lore. He takes notes on it. He puts off all his other work so he can cross-reference some things. He hogs the ritual room to try and untangle some of the spellwork in the binding. Koschei gives him an extremely judgmental lecture that Kuzy mostly tunes out, the gist of which is that human courtship rituals are baffling and why doesn’t he just sing his mate a nice song. Kuzy tells Koschei that his cooing is annoying and he’ll never find love, and Koschei refuses to help him with any magic for the foreseeable future (i.e., until a reasonable bribe of treats is produced).

They just need to get through the moon, and then he can talk to Nicke, and figure out how to fix this mess.

Kuzy sighs, and starts a new page in his journal.

—-

NICKE

The full moon is a time of lowered inhibitions, and heightened sensation, and Nicke is used to not getting what he wants, even then. He’s used to missing pack, feeling isolated and tired and cold and alone. Even his best moons have been marred by tension, the endless need for caution. Limiting his strength, shrinking into himself, even around other wolves. He’s not necessarily bigger as a bitten wolf, but he’s stronger and faster than most born wolves. He’s used to the continual frustration of having to hold himself back, keep himself in check, even as everyone around him gives into instinct.

What he wants has never been offered quite like this before, though, and it turns out that resisting temptation is much, much more difficult when the consequences are not immediately obvious.

They’d dropped Mari off a few hours early, which had seemed like a perfectly sensible thing to do at the time. It gives her time to get settled, and for Nicke to be available if something goes wrong, and a little space to clear his head before pack run.

It’s not that he hadn’t thought about it. Nicke is well aware that being alone with Alex, with time and space and no one to walk in on them, is possibly a disaster waiting to happen. Things have been going so well, though, almost easy.

They work so well together, alone and within the pack, at work and socially, clicking and feeding off each other. And Alex is _staying_. That, Nicke’s last real worry about getting too close, has been laid to rest. He can’t really feel Alex’s emotions, not yet, but he thinks he’s starting to get there, starting to relax the tightness of his hold over his own ruthlessly maintained boundaries.

There is another reason, though, that he’s afraid of being alone with Alex. Or, more accurately, a related reason. Nicke is not good at talking about relationships with people, mostly by virtue of not really having any experience doing it. It’s just easier, not letting people get close, and Kuzy, as always, is an exception. It’s not that they don’t have to talk about things, but they understand each other so well, and have so much shared history, that they can scrape by suffering through the occasional necessary honesty.

Alex is not like that. He’s much better at looking directly at his own emotions than Nicke is, and Nicke is both expecting and dreading some kind of conversation about the mate mark and what it means. Nicke knows, intellectually, that it’s smarter to have that conversation first, before they go any farther. He also knows himself, and that he isn’t ready to initiate that.

This is why being alone with Alex is probably something he should have tried harder to avoid. Nicke is somewhat used to the slow, steady burn of attraction lurking at the corner of his perception. It’s become almost familiar, the feeling of wanting to touch Alex, to press his mouth up against his throat, to crave the smell of his skin. He thinks, because it has become almost familiar, that he can easily ignore it for a few hours. He’s not ready to initiate a relationship conversation with Alex, so he shouldn’t sleep with Alex. It’s logical.

Nicke has wildly overestimated his own self control.

The problem is, they’re alone in the apartment for less than a minute before Nicke gets a tantalizing whiff of Alex’s arousal. Nicke’s in the kitchen rummaging around in the cabinet for a mug for tea, and when he turns around Alex is staring at his ass.

“Alex,” Nicke says sharply. Alex’s eyes slide up his body, slow like honey, and he meets Nicke’s gaze. He doesn’t push, doesn’t step forward, but he doesn’t look apologetic either.

Nicke goes back to making tea, more for something to do with his hands than because he particularly wants it, and Alex watches him from the doorway. The air feels thick and hot, like summer before a storm, and all Nicke can think about is what it would feel like, fitting his body up against Alex’s.

_Not yet,_ Nicke tells himself firmly, and gives Alex a wide berth as he leaves the kitchen.

The problem is this: Nicke can’t fool himself into thinking Alex doesn’t want him, and he can’t fool Alex into thinking Nicke doesn’t want him right back. He’s trying to remember all the reasons this is a bad idea, and lecturing himself about the proper order of things, but he keeps getting distracted by the fact that Alex is still just staring at him. He’s sitting on the edge of the couch, obediently keeping to the distance Nicke set between them, but his eyes are all over Nicke’s body and he smells like…

Nicke snaps his book shut, and Alex starts slightly at the unexpected noise.

“This is a bad idea,” Nicke says, because he wants someone to argue with other than himself.

“Yeah, probably,” Alex says. Nicke has made the frankly stupid decision to look at him, eyes caught on the tip of Alex’s tongue as it darts out to wet his lips. Nicke swallows, throat suddenly dry.

“Stop looking at me,” he tries, finally, and Alex makes a disgruntled noise.

“Not fair, Nicke.”

“In what way?” Nicke asks icily. His tone, unfortunately, does not seem to put Alex off any.

“Can’t touch you,” Alex says, his hand tracing the edges of his mate mark, of Nicke’s handprint. _Fuck_ , Alex’s hands are big. “At least let me look.” Nicke makes some kind of noise at this, half-frustration half-arousal, and Alex’s eyes go so dark Nicke swears he can feel the room get hotter.

They’re just staring at each other, now, but Nicke can’t seem to make himself look away. He knows what Alex means, about it being unfair. His body feels like it’s starving for Alex, for his touch, for the feel of his skin. Looking at him makes it better and worse, because it’s like the smallest taste of what he could have. What Alex _wants_ to give him.

Nicke has denied himself a lot of things, but generally when they were already being snatched out of his hands. He doesn’t know how to walk away from this: from Alex looking like he’d happily beg Nicke to devour him.

“Fuck,” Nicke says emphatically, and Alex’s body goes taut, like he’s just scented prey. Nicke doesn’t bother repeating all the reasons why it’s a bad idea, partly because they’re sounding increasingly flimsy the more he says them to himself and partly because Alex already knows. “Is this going to change things?” he says instead, cutting to the heart of it. He feels steadier having said it, having taken all the twisted up indecision of Nicke alone and put it out for Alex to examine. Maybe he can initiate conversations about feelings, after all.

“I don’t know,” Alex says. He closes his eyes for a minute, gathering focus. “Not for me, I don’t think.” And, well. His eyes are still shut, and his breathing is a little unsteady, and all the contained power of him laid vulnerable makes Nicke crave.

Nicke moves closer on the couch, slow and purposeful, and Alex must hear him but he doesn’t open his eyes, not yet. Nicke sets a careful hand on Alex’s thigh, in warning, and Alex doesn’t pull away. He holds still, letting Nicke take a slow inventory, eyes running over Alex’s calves and thighs, his torso, his arms. When he reaches Alex’s face Alex is looking back at him, gaze soft and heated. Nicke takes his hand and puts it right over the mark of his handprint, grip firm around Alex’s wrist.

_Mine,_ Nicke thinks, and that should maybe stop him, or slow him down, but Alex is right there, and wanting him, and Nicke can’t resist that, not anymore.

He leans forward, slow enough for Alex to back away, if he wants to. Slow enough to see Alex’s eyes go hazy. Nicke breathes in, closing the last centimeter of distance between them, and presses his lips to Alex’s.

It’s warm and soft, if a little tentative. Nicke is sitting right next to Alex on the couch but the angle is awkward, and he’s impatient with the way he has to crane his neck. He pulls back after a minute and Alex’s eyes slide open. He, fuck, he looks like he’s _starving_ , like Nicke is the only thing he can imagine wanting, and Nicke feels that slip into his bloodstream like a drug.

“Can I?” Nicke starts to ask, not entirely sure what he wants or how to get there, but Alex is nodding and pulling him back in. Nicke just needs to be closer to him, to feel all of him, so he throws one leg over to kneel over Alex when Alex tugs at him.

It’s, fuck, it’s a lot, and fast, and Nicke feels like his head is spinning with it. Alex’s chest is so warm against his, and so solid. Alex’s mouth is wet and open and inviting and he kisses like he’s the undertow and he wants to pull Nicke down with him.

It’s a lot, and Nicke wants more, wants Alex’s hands on him, wants all the annoying layers of clothes out of the way, wants to touch and be touched by him.

Alex pulls back and Nicke whines and then flushes, curling his hands into the couch behind Alex’s head in embarrassment. Alex seems to find his eagerness arousing rather than off-putting, though, if the way he jerks a little under Nicke and presses his face into his chest is any indication. It makes Nicke bold.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, running his fingers across the hem of Alex’s shirt.

“Please,” Alex says, and his voice is hoarse, and Nicke gets a little distracted by kissing him.

He gets Alex’s shirt off eventually, and his own, and the feel of that much skin against his short-circuits his brain, a little. It’s hard to keep thinking, to stay focused, to do anything but press closer and closer to Alex, run his hands over his chest, his arms, tug at his hair to adjust the angle, kiss him deeper.

Alex just smells so _good_ like happy and pack and home and mate and summer runs under the stars. His hands are big and steady on Nicke’s hips, touching him just a little, not holding or pushing. He’s letting Nicke touch him all over, run curious hands lightly across his body. It settles into Nicke at the back of his neck and the base of his spine, the addictive slippery feeling of losing control, of becoming wolf, of letting go the exhausting burden of holding himself in check all the time.

And just like that, the disorientation, his head spinning, the way his lungs won’t quite fill up with air, slips from pleasant to frightening. It’s suddenly terrifying, the way so much of Alex is bare beneath him. Nicke can’t breathe, has to stop kissing Alex but can’t quite bring himself to pull all the way back. He presses his face into Alex’s neck, breathes in his smell, tries to settle himself.

_It’s fine. You’re fine_ , he tells himself firmly. He doesn’t understand why this isn’t true, why he can’t make it true. He wants this, he wants Alex, and Alex is _staying_ , and-

“Nicke,” Alex says, sounding worried. Nicke won’t look up at him, afraid of what he’s going to see in Alex’s expression, and just keeps pressing his face into Alex’s throat. If he can just stay here, right in this exact moment, with Alex still and solid under him, he’ll be okay. He doesn’t have to move, or open his eyes, just keep breathing in. He’ll be fine.

But Alex’s scent is changing quickly from happy and aroused to confused and anxious, and unfortunately Nicke can’t stop time from progressing by sheer force of will. He pulls back, looking down at Alex, who is staring up at him with a face wreathed in concern.

“I’m fine,” Nicke says, insistently and somewhat automatically. The face he makes after he says this must indicate that he knows Alex knows he’s lying, and that he doesn’t want to hear it, because Alex doesn’t immediately call him on this.

“What do you need?” Alex says instead, and his hands on Nicke’s hips have gotten so cautious that Nicke can barely feel them. Nicke heaves a frustrated sigh.

“I didn’t want this to be difficult,” he says, a little mulishly. “You’re staying, and we both-” he cuts himself off, not entirely sure how to say _want to fuck each other_. “I don’t understand why I’m being like this.”

Alex’s hands slip off him entirely, and he leans back against the couch, and this is the opposite of what Nicke wants. He almost sways forward, tries to just ignore the swoopy panicked feeling still tingling in his fingertips, but he thinks Alex might actually push him away if he does that and that’s not what Nicke wants, either. He sighs, climbing off Alex’s lap and sitting on the couch next to him.

Alex is holding himself stiffly, body tense and mostly against the arm of the couch. Nicke glares at the wall in front of him because they’re going to have to talk about this now, and he didn’t want to talk about this.

“Are you…” Nicke starts, trailing off. “Can you touch me, while we have this conversation?” Alex’s body relaxes slightly, although he doesn’t move any closer.

“Is that okay?” he says cautiously.

“Obviously,” Nicke says, through gritted teeth.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable-”

“Just,” Nicke snaps, cutting him off. He pushes himself under Alex’s arm, presses up against his side. After another handful of seconds, Alex starts to relax by increments, letting his arm wrap around Nicke and his head drop back toward where Nicke’s rests on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Nicke says, once his stupid fucking body has started to get the message that they’re just sitting here, and Alex is close, and it doesn’t need to freak out.

“No,” Alex says firmly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed-”

Nicke snorts. “You didn’t.” He gets the feeling Alex kind of wants to keep arguing about this, but he doesn’t. He just tucks Nicke’s head more securely under his chin. “You really didn’t,” Nicke says quietly, after a minute. “I just, I don’t even know what I’m worried about.”

“Nicke,” Alex says slowly, like he knows exactly what Nicke is worried about. Nicke glares at the wall some more. Alex waits for him to interrupt, or change topics, but Nicke just lets the silence hang. Maybe Alex does know. Maybe it’ll be helpful, to hear what he thinks. “People touching, it’s hard for you.”

“Not always,” Nicke protests. “Not- I trust you. And Kuzy.”

“That’s good,” Alex says, patting Nicke’s hip gently. “I’m glad. But still hard for you.” Nicke can’t exactly argue with this, not when the evidence is fresh in both their minds.

“I don’t want it to be,” Nicke finally says, and his voice sounds small and scared and pathetic. Alex kisses the crown of his head, gentle, and hesitantly brushes his hand over Nicke’s head. Nicke pushes into it, and Alex resettles him more comfortably, combing his fingers through Nicke’s hair. It helps, calms him down a little more. He closes his eyes and lets himself feel it.

“This okay?” Alex says, after a few minutes. Nicke opens his eyes, looks up at him. Now that the panic has receded he’s a little sleepy, slipped down to pillow his head on Alex’s thigh.

“Yeah,” he says, smiles up at him. Alex’s smell has gone happy and soft again, and it wraps around him like a blanket.

“We figure it out, Nicke,” Alex says. “We have time. I’ll be here.” It’s not quite a question, but there’s something a little unsure in it. Nicke reaches up, catches Alex’s wrist, pulls the mark against him.

“I like having you here,” he says. It’s a little bit impulsive, a little bit about wanting to comfort, and it’s scarier after it comes out. How much he means it. How Alex will _know_ , now.

Alex just looks happy, though, and relieved, and like he wants to stay on the couch with Nicke on top of him for a long, long time.

Nicke breathes in, presses his lips to the mark, lets Alex go back to playing with his hair. It’s a little frustrating, that he can’t just leap into things, can’t seem to set aside a lifetime of holding back and slowing down even for a few hours, but Alex is right. They have time.

—-

KUZY

Mari is off and running the second Kuzy gets her out of her car seat, yelling her excitement up at the moon.

“Keep eye out for holes, Masha!” he calls after her. “Don’t fall!”

“She’s fine,” Nicke says, lightly amused.

“What are you so cheerful about,” Kuzy grumbles.

“Certainly not camping with the worlds biggest grump,” Nicke snarks at him. Kuzy flips him off and doesn’t help him unload the car. Whatever. Nicke has that nice werewolf strength and Kuzy’s just a regular human. He flops morosely by the fire pit. “What crawled up your ass?” Nicke asks, kicking him a little as he carries over their bag of food.

“You kiss your daughter with that mouth?” Kuzy says, leaning back to look up at him. Nicke rolls his eyes.

“You’re one to talk. I’m surprised her first word wasn’t ‘fuck’.”

Kuzy laughs. “No way. Only good Russian swears for first word.”

“Can we make s’mores now?” Mari calls, running back over to them.

“We have to set up camp first,” Nicke says, “and Geni’s being lazy.”

“Am not,” Kuzy protests.

Mari frowns at him seriously. “Geni, I want my s’mores.”

Kuzy sighs dramatically and collapses backward. “I’m so comfortable here, though.” Mari giggles, dropping onto the grass next to him. Nicke clicks his tongue.

“I see how it is,” he says. “I have to do all the work around here.”

“Yes, that would be nice, thank you.” Kuzy grins up at Nicke, who rolls his eyes but is smiling back.

“Just get the fire going so we can heat up dinner. I’m not camping with a child who’s fussy because they ate too much sugar on an empty stomach and made themself sick.”

“I won’t!” Mari protests

“I meant Geni,” is Nicke’s parting shot as he goes to set up the tent. Kuzy shows his immense maturity by not responding to this as it deserves.

They get camp set up, with eager if largely directionless assistance from Mari, and eat dinner. Toasting s’mores is next priority, although Nicke does limit them each to three. _Until she goes to bed, anyway,_ he mouths at Kuzy over Mari’s head. Kuzy stifles a laugh.

“What do you wanna do now, Masha? Sing?”

“Hmm,” Mari says, licking the marshmallow goo off her fingers consideringly. “Can we have a dance party? With special CD?”

“Did you pack it?” Kuzy asks, looking at Nicke.

“Of course I packed it,” Nicke says judgmentally. “It’s a classic camping activity.”

“Yay! Dance party!” Mari cheers, well inured to snark.

She insists on standing on Kuzy’s feet and having him dance her around, so they practice that while Nicke turns the car on and puts the CD in.

It’s a little bit of a silly extravagance, leaving the car on and running in the middle of the campground, with the lights blazing, but it’s only for a little bit. Besides, it’s tradition. Nicke leaves all the car doors open, turning up the radio all the way, and comes to join them.

“Ready?” he asks Mari, as the first song starts. She nods solemnly, hopping down onto her own two feet and holding out both hands.

They form a little circle, hands linked, and wait for the first few bars to pass.

Mari choreographed most of the dance, smack in the middle of her ballerina phase, and it involves a lot of twirling and Mari being lifted while she makes various dramatic poses. It’s not very long, and most of family dance party is more freeform, but it _is_ tradition.

Mari finishes thing off by tilting her head back and howling at the moon, waving to the stars, and Kuzy does the same. Nicke will never howl as a human, he says it’s undignified, but whatever. Kuzy thinks it’s fun.

Kuzy has missed this.

Nicke brings the s’more ingredients back out once Mari has settled in for bed, but smacks Kuzy’s hand away when he reaches for a marshmallow.

“Ouch!”

“You’re fine. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Unfair of you to withhold sugar,” Kuzy grumbles. Nicke gives him a positively evil grin and eats a marshmallow. Kuzy seriously contemplates trying another grab at the bag. Nicke’s reflexes are unfairly good, though, and he is probably expecting it. “Sasha gave me something,” he says instead. Nicke raises an eyebrow and Kuzy flushes, jabbing him in the side. “A book.”

“Oh,” Nicke tilts his head consideringly. “What kind of book?”

“Family lore.”

Nicke drops the bag of marshmallows, and Kuzy rescues it with a gleeful crow before it spills.

“Wait, really?” Nicke says. “That’s…” he trails off, looking at Kuzy, thoughtful. Kuzy has stuffed several giant marshmallows in his mouth at once (only partly as a delaying tactic), and just shrugs. “I didn’t realize things were that serious.”

The marshmallows are suddenly less delicious, but Kuzy powers through and eats several more anyway. He needs adequate sugar for this conversation. “They aren’t serious.”

“Kuzy,” Nicke rolls his eyes. “That’s like, courting gifts level serious, for witches.”

“It’s complicated,” Kuzy hedges. Nicke squints at him.

“What did you do?”

“You have to let me tell the whole story before you get mad, okay?” Kuzy pleads.

Nicke sighs, resettling himself more comfortably on the log by the fire. “I knew there was something going on,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, well,” Kuzy looks into the fire, frowning, “you can tell me I’m an idiot all you want. Just help me figure out what to do.”

“You’re my idiot,” Nicke says, pushing his knee into Kuzy’s. “I’ll always help you.”

Kuzy smiles, small but genuine, and starts talking. He tells Nicke about the journal, about giving it to Sasha (Nicke already knows about the story, and the article, of course. He knows most things about Kuzy’s past.) When he brings up Sasha’s idea about the fake dating, Nicke goes tense next to him, but as promised he doesn’t interrupt. He just lets Kuzy keep going: about what it’s been like at the witch house without Nicke, about how hard and confusing it is to make a family, about missing their moons together, about Kuzy’s dumb impulsive decision to pretend he and Sasha were dating, about how Nicke seemed so happy and how Kuzy didn’t want to take that away.

Nicke still doesn’t interrupt, but he slips his hand into Kuzy’s, and Kuzy feels calm settle over him, soothing his frazzled nerves. If things will be okay with Nicke, then he can handle the rest. He can handle whatever’s going on with Sasha, and figure out what the fuck he’s going to say to him, if he just has Nicke steady and secure beside him.

“And…that’s it,” Kuzy winds up awkwardly.

“You haven’t talked to him since he gave you the book?”

“Not really,” Kuzy sighs. “Moon dinner was…I don’t know. Quiet.”

“Do Dima and Nastya know?”

Kuzy frowns. “Yes,” he says slowly, after a minute. “They didn’t ever…” he trails off. “Koschei,” he adds, finally, bitter. He sort of expects Nicke to start yelling at him. Nicke _hates_ not knowing what’s going on, and they never lie to each other, and-

Nicke starts laughing.

Kuzy looks over at him in astonishment. Nicke is absolutely shaking with laughter, head thrown back and eyes crinkled up and just _howling_ with amusement, and on the one hand Kuzy probably deserves it but on the other, “This isn’t funny!” Nicke, if possible, laughs harder, and Kuzy seriously considers shoving him off the log, but he still does want Nicke’s help figuring out what to do next. He compromises by giving up on getting out of this with even a scrap of dignity intact, and glaring at Nicke until he tapers off into giggles.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Nicke asks, finally.

“I don’t know!” Kuzy says, waving his hands around a little. “Seemed like a good idea at the time!”

Nicke shakes his head fondly. “Geni, you can’t just…poor Sasha is probably confused as hell.”

“What does he have to be confused about?” Kuzy asks indignantly. Nicke stares at him, incredulous. “What?!”

“He’s…okay,” Nicke says, in the tone of voice he uses to explain complicated concepts to Mari. It’s a little insulting, to be honest, but also kind of comforting. “First, you flirt with him all the time-”

“I _don’t_!”

“-and then you give him a courtship gift-”

“Witches don’t even have those!”

“-and then you tell him to pretend to be your boyfriend,” Nicke pauses, but Kuzy doesn’t have a rebuttal for this one, “and then when he responds in kind with a gift you just stop talking to him for several days.”

“I’m not, like, ignoring him,” Kuzy protests weakly. “I said hi at breakfast.”

“Oh, well, if you said hi at breakfast.”

“So much sarcasm makes your blood go vinegar-y.”

“I pickled a long time ago.” Nicke shakes his head. “Don’t you like him?”

“Of course I…” Kuzy sputters. “He’s, everyone likes him! He’s great.”

“Not what I meant,” Nicke rolls his eyes. “Don’t you want him to be your mate?”

“Witches don’t have those either,” Kuzy protests weakly.

Nicke gives him a speaking look, which Kuzy interprets correctly as _don’t you think you’re more than a little wolf, at this point_.

Kuzy sighs, staring into the fire so he doesn’t have to see it. “It’s not like that, for him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t think of me that way,” Kuzy says. “I’m just…whatever. You know.”

“I don’t know,” Nicke says blankly. “He’s been trying to get you to go for him since we got here.” Kuzy looks at Nicke in surprise, but Nicke looks…not serious, exactly, but earnest. “Didn’t you notice?”

“You’re wrong,” Kuzy says, shaking his head.

“Kuz…why do you think I tease you about him all the time?”

“Because of my really obvious crush on him?” Kuzy grumbles, glaring at Nicke a little. He doesn’t need to be so mean about it.

“Well, yes,” Nicke says. “But also because it’s incredibly fucking obvious he feels the same way about you. I just thought you were like, wanting to go slow about it.” Nicke is looking at him increasing like he has two heads, which is silly when Nicke is the one who is being oblivious.

“He doesn’t,” Kuzy insists. “I don’t know where you’re even getting this from.”

Nicke rolls his eyes. “Fine. Don’t believe me. Just ask him about it.”

“Yeah so he can reject me? I don’t think so.”

“I’ll tell him if you don’t.”

“Nicke!” Kuzy says, scandalized. “What the fuck!”

“It’s good to get stuff out in the open,” Nicke says.

“Who _are_ you? Next thing you tell me you talked to Alex about the mate mark thing.”

“I did,” Nicke says smugly. Kuzy’s jaw drops open in shock, and then he narrows his eyes.

“Hang on. Is this just you getting revenge for me lying to you about the dating thing?”

Nicke laughs. “No. I really did…well. We didn’t talk about the mark, not exactly. But we,” Nicke flushes slightly, trailing off.

“You fucked him?!”

“Shhh, keep your voice down,” Nicke hisses. “I don’t want to wake Mari up!”

“Well, did you?”

“Stop waggling your eyebrows, you look like a pervy old man,” Nicke complains. “Anyway, I didn’t. That would be irresponsible when we haven’t defined our relationship, yet.”

“Sure,” Kuzy says skeptically. Nicke sighs.

“Okay, yes. We,” he waves a hand, vaguely, “started to, and I kind of…panicked.”

“What happened?” Kuzy asks, reaching out a hand, palm up. Nicke grabs onto it, looks down at their clasped hands.

“It was okay, I think,” he says hesitantly. “Alex, he gets that…” Nicke trails off.

“Touch hard for you?”

Nicke grimaces. “I guess.” He sighs, still looking down at their hands. “He was really good about it.”

“Good. I poison him if not,” Kuzy says firmly. Nicke laughs, and relaxes a little.

“It’s just frustrating. It would be different if it was just something I didn’t want, you know? But it’s not that, really. It’s just…hard.”

Kuzy squeezes Nicke’s hand a little. “You figure it out,” he says confidently. “If it’s something you want, you figure out a way to have it. If not, you figure that out, too. Alex is good for you. He wants you to be happy.”

“Yeah,” Nicke says, smiling to himself, flushed and pleased. It settles warm and soft under Kuzy’s breastbone, seeing him like this. He loves to see Nicke happy, and comfortable, and full of hope. It feels like finding home again. “I still can’t believe you and Sasha aren’t together yet,” Nicke says. Kuzy groans dramatically, and Nicke laughs at him again. “I can’t! He kept touching you at the party.”

“I know,” Kuzy grumbles, and shrugs. “He and Alex are just like that, though. You’ve seen them together.”

“That’s true,” Nicke says thoughtfully. “What’s that like, I wonder?”

Kuzy looks down at their joined hands, and thinks about how long it took them to get here, and smiles a little. It’s different. Sasha and Alex, Nicke and Alex, Sasha and Kuzy, they all have different things they struggle with, and different strengths, and maybe that’s okay. Kuzy likes his new coven, is starting to love them, and he’s grateful for each and every one of them.

But, there’s only one Nicke, and will only ever be one Nicke, and right now, what they have, Kuzy wouldn’t trade that for anything.

“I was really lonely before I met you,” Kuzy says, quiet. “You know? Just, all the time.”

“I know,” Nicke says, squeezing his hand. “Me, too.”

“And,” Kuzy takes a deep breath. He isn’s entirely sure he wants to say this next bit, but he probably needs to, and now is as good a time as any. “I wasn’t sure, about coming here.” He stops, gives Nicke a chance to re-direct the conversation. Nicke doesn’t say anything, though, just moves a little bit closer, presses their thighs together so they’re lined up on the log. “I don’t like that you made such a big decision about Masha without me, Nicke. I get why you did it, I really do. And I know she’s wolf like you, and that’s why I didn’t argue with you or try to talk you out of it. But it wasn’t fair.”

Nicke sighs, and doesn’t say anything for a minute. Kuzy lets him have the quiet. He’s said what he wanted to say, and he feels lighter for it. It’s not easy, he hates having these kinds of conversations with _anyone_ and it’s hardest with the person he loves most in the whole world. It’s not easy, but then, neither is life. Neither is anything that’s worth fighting for.

“You’re right,” Nicke says, finally. “It wasn’t fair.” He stops, but it’s the way Nicke stops when he’s thinking, when he needs to get the words untangled from his head, not the way he stops when he’s finished. “I thought it would be easier, I guess,” Nicke says, after a little. “Keeping it all separate. Simple. Wolf with wolf, witch with witch. Pack just like a neat box, you know? Everything contained in one place.” Nicke sighs, smiles at Kuzy a little ruefully. “It is easier, but that doesn’t mean it’s better, really, does it? Not for you, not for me, and not for Mari.”

“I know you just want the best for her,” Kuzy says, because that is true, and important. He knows Nicke is a good father, always, good in a way that presses up against his own wounds and scars and tender places, good in the way that he throws all the hurt of his past and present between Mari and the rest of the world, good in a way that is wolf, and witch, and human. Good like love, messy and scary and seeping in around your edges. Good like taking what life gives you, and cupping it in your hands, and making it gentle.

“I do,” Nicke says. “But so do you. Maybe I’m not always right, about what’s best.”

Kuzy gasps dramatically. “Nicke you admit you’re wrong sometimes? I should record on my phone. No one believe me.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Nicke laughs. “I’m trying to be genuine, here.”

Kuzy smiles, a big eager thing, a thing that shows how much, still, always, it settles something deep in him to make Nicke laugh. “We do okay together, I think.”

“Better than,” Nicke says, and he tilts his head up to look at the stars. His face has gentled, softened, but there’s still a smile lurking in the corner of his mouth and brimming in his eyes. He looks over at Kuzy, and he’s lighter than he’s been in ages, bright as the moon. “I’ll make you a bargain,” Nicke says, already half-laughing at whatever the punchline is of the joke he’s about to make.

“Okay,” Kuzy says agreeably, always ready to laugh with him.

“I’ll howl if you will,” Nicke says.

Kuzy does laugh at that, and then he tilts his head back and howls at the moon, with Nicke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway sometimes u just love someone So Much your body can’t hold it all!!! Okay thank u for coming to my ted talk.
> 
> Also yea I had a specific song in mind when I wrote Family Dance Party but it’s so tied to my specific emotional context that I figured it was better to leave it ambiguous and let ppl fill in. However, I am DEEPLY curious what song ppl fill in and why so if u feel like sharing, please do.


	10. Chapter 10

EPILOGUE // NASTYA

Mari’s big celebration for her seventh birthday is going to be the next day. It will be huge and festive, with all of her friends and their families attending. The pack has even agreed to let the full coven come onto pack land in order for Mari to have everyone there. It’s a big deal for wolves, because seven is around when you start being able to fully shift. Mari might be on a slightly different timeline, being a bitten wolf, but the ceremony of it is still important. Varvara will be there, and Dmitry’s new friend Matt, and it will be nice to have a cohesive event for all of them.

Tonight, though, is their family party at the witch house, and it’s just the seven of them. Nastya is comfortably ensconced in one of the chairs on the back deck, glass of wine in hand as she looks out over the garden. It’s getting close to sunset, but for now it’s still light out and the air is pleasantly cool. Mari is playing some kind of game with Dmitry that involves a great deal of yelling and leaping, with Nicke, Sasha, and Evgeny watching them and laughing from a little tangle on the grass. Nicke has his head in Evgeny’s lap, and Sasha, who takes every chance to wrap around Evgeny like a vine now that he can, is pressed up against Evgeny’s side.

The food is mostly ready, prepared by Nastya and Dmitry earlier that day, but Alex is stationed at the grill and finishing up burgers and hot dogs for everyone. It has gotten easier and more natural, the dance of dividing up tasks between them. Nastya knows Nicke is trying to trust a little more, and Alex is more confident in taking on responsibilities, and they’re slowly settling into normalcy with the relationship between the pack and the coven, and the relationship between their family and everyone else.

It hasn’t been entirely easy. The decision for Mari, Alex, and Nicke to spend weekends off pack land (only returning for pack day and barring a weekend full moon), had caused quite a few ruffled feathers that Nastya needed to smooth out. Mari is so much happier this way, though, and Nicke has slowly let himself relax into that happiness, and Nastya doesn’t question for a second that it was all worth it.

The balance isn’t perfect, and they always have more to work on and figure out, but it’s good enough, for now. It works while it works, and if it stops working they’ll figure something else out. It’s messy, and it feels like family, and like home, an everyday kind of happiness that hums through the background of Nastya’s days and grounds her in the present. She is comforted by the flexible steadiness of it. Not a lack of change, but a strategy to approach change, and a foundation of love and confidence to build around.

They spread themselves out across a trio of picnic blankets and eat on paper plates, before lying down in a big circle to look up at the night sky. Mari is fascinated by stars right now, and is always eager to show off her ever-growing knowledge of the names and positions of constellations. Nastya thinks fondly of the telescope from Evgeny and Nicke that’s hidden in the downstairs closet until the party tomorrow, and how excited Mari will be to try it out.

Nastya is a little sleepy, full of good food and surrounded by family, and she lets the chatter of the others drift around her as her eyes droop shut. The moment lengthens and softens around her, a warm blur of comfort and home, and she falls asleep to the smell of night air and the sound of laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read and commented as I posted!! I know starting a WIP is an exercise in trust so I v much appreciate it and love u all!! Come talk to me on twitter at selchies, or riverannan/selkienicke on tumblr!
> 
> Next project posted will probably be the Kuzy/Sema coda to ‘keep my eyes to serve, hands to learn’ or Bruins Nicke fic, but I’ll be complaining about it on twitter whatever it is lol


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